


A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by sp00kworm



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Transformation, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Gangs, Italian Mafia, Multi, Shifter AU, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:33:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kworm/pseuds/sp00kworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With The Vicissitudinis rite almost upon him, Connor finds himself thrown into the deep end as things don't go exactly as planned. All his life he was raised as a Panthera, shifters who changed into enormous predatory big cats, but when the change finally takes him, he finds everything is not exactly as it seemed, and the world he knew, was never exactly how he saw it either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The estate was alight. Flames licked at the wooden structures of the courtyard, cracking and popping as it spread over the timber wildly. The roof exploded in a flash of bright orange, the tiles exploding from their places, and shattering as they shot back down to the earth. The dark coloured Lamborghini's head lights flashed as the metal dented and the paint peeled away with the heat of the roaring flames. The bonnet exploded with an ear shattering sound, the alarm screaming as the flames invaded the engine, igniting the fuel within. The flower beds wilted, and glass shattered from the window panes as the home invaders made sure to be thorough in their search and destruction of the estate. The dark, spring night was hazy with the smoke, and the cool breeze thick with smog from the bonfire in place of their house. The fountain was the only object unaffected, a stone cold figure in the midst of the crackling ivy and wood surrounding it. Charcoal coloured lines left in the wake of the flames were still warm to the touch, yet the fire moved on, ravaging everything in its path. The cry of their baby sliced through the air, and all they could do was turn their backs on the blaze, and run.

The woods were cold, the heat of the fire not reaching into the cool clutches of thickets of trees and overgrown moss and bushes. The two of them ran, pumping their legs fast, the child held close to the woman's chest as they vaulted logs and brambles. The boy, wrapped in swaddling blankets, wrenched an arm free, crying out again, his small face scrunched up. The noise of the invasion had woken him from his sleep. The dire situation was unknown to the boy, he merely cried out in fear, and annoyance of being woken from his much needed rest. His mother held him closer, soothing mumbles washing over him, in hopes of keep him quiet. Branches clawed at them, ripping through their sleeves and tugging clumps out of their hair. The woman was first to come to a halt, forcefully pulling her lover to one too. 

“Ziio we must go! They will find him and kill him if we do not!” Ziio, as she was called, tugged her two plaits of dark hair over her shoulders, holding their child closer to her breast.  
“I know well enough what the risks are...but, Haytham...they are here for me. They do not even know about the two of us, not yet.” Tears coated her deep, dark chocolate eyes as she kissed the baby boy in her arms, softly taking his hand into her own. She squeezed the child's hand softly before smiling, and holding him out to the father. “Take him. Take him and go.” She thrust the child towards him, a single tear travelling down her cheek. Haytham growled, grabbing her hand before giving her a tug.   
“No! I will not let you get yourself killed! You are coming with me! We still have a chance to escape, and we are wasting it by being stood here!” His voice was sharp, laced with anger as he gritted his teeth, his own tears welling behind his eyes. Ziio merely cast her head down, wrenching her hand from his grasp. She scowled at him.  
“They want me. If they have me, they will leave you. I want our son to live. I want Ratonhnhaké:ton to have a life ahead of him, a good one. So,” She pushed the small boy back into his father's arm, giving him a trembling smile, “take him with you. Do not look back.” She whispered, cupping Haytham's face tenderly before stepping backwards.

Haytham growled, annoyed, angry and distraught all at the same time. He strode forwards, Ratonhnhaké:ton perched in the crook of his arm, contently babbling to himself. Tears erupted down his cheeks, leaving streaks in the soot that covered them, as he leaned forwards, running his knuckles over Ziio's cheek bone. Quickly, he pulled her closer in a hug, smashing their lips together one last time, greedily savouring the moment. Ziio gently pushed him away, a sad smile across her lips as she took off her necklace, wrapping it inside the blanket. Haytham watched her with sad steel coloured eyes.  
“Please.” He chocked back a sob. Ziio, gave him one last peck on the cheek and a content smile before turning and running into the bushes. Haytham drew in a shaky breath before gently placing his son against a tree root.

Haytham was quick to rip off his clothes and shoes. Drawing in a breath he winced as he felt the shift come over him. His spine cracked and popped as he was forced onto all fours. Black fur, as dark as the night, began to spread from his head, to his entire body. Hands and feet became paws, and his fingers, toes on each of them, retractable claws growing in place of his nails. Soon, his human form had shifted into that of a sleek Black Panther, his grey eyes glowing slightly as he cautiously took in the surroundings with his enhanced cat sight. Without a moment's hesitance he padded back over to his little boy. Ratonhnhaké:ton squealed and wriggled in the swaddling, trying to undo the blanket to lay a hand on his father's inky snout. Haytham grumbled before carefully taking a mouthful of the blanket in his jaws, avoiding damaging Ratonhnhaké:ton but enough so he could hold him securely. The boy mumbled and Haytham took one last look at the bushes, his thick black tail swinging in anticipation. Ziio did not appear. With a final growl he took off into the undergrowth, holding the only relic of his lover, tightly in his jaws.

Not once did he stop to look back, fearful, his heart aching. Even as the howls of wolves met with the full moon and he lost his beloved to the night's sky.

 

Seventeen Years Later

Ratonhnhaké:ton had been awoken every morning for the past year with strange dreams. The doctors could not tell him what was wrong, merely what he already knew. He was having night terrors due to some apparent trauma. Every single one of them had said the same, offered him the name of a psychologist and had left with a hefty sum of his father's money in their pocket. So, even after many appointments with said therapists and psychologists alike, he just gave up trying to find a way to get rid of them, and settled into the routine of waking up, covered in cold sweat and paralysed in his sleep while his limbs shook in agony. His father had hoped it would pass in time, but never told him the reason why. It seemed that nowadays, he knew a lot more than he was willing to let on. Though Ratonhnhaké:ton couldn't understand just why he had been so intent on keeping secrets from him. Still, he resigned himself to silence, while his conscious nitpicked at the lies he heard and the secrets that were being kept from him. 

This morning, was not unlike any other. Ratonhnhaké:ton tried to bolt upright, only to find his limbs in a paralytic state, despite him willing them to move. They jolted, his nerves searing with pain as his brain willed them awake. Meanwhile the nightmares danced around his room, floating and watching, laughing and snorting at him. His mother crouched next to him, her entire body torn open with gashes, blood running over her dark skin. She reached out to him with a gentle smile.  
“Ratonhnhaké:ton...wake....” Her voice was muffled as though she was far away, or as though it was an echo from another room. “Wake up my little Ratonhnhaké:ton.” And he regained the feelings in his legs as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He scrambled for anything, and everything, trying to recoil away from the phantom in front of him. She leaned closer, blood dripping onto his covers. Ratonhnhaké:ton scrunched his eyes shut tight, willing her away. A ghost of a touch fanned over his cheek, and he dared to open his eyes once more. 

The white sheets of the bed were wrapped around his calves and coiled tight around his ankles, pinning them down. The diamond patterned blanket of earthy colours was tossed over one half of his body, and even then, the sheets around him were drenched in cold sweat. Panting, he managed to pull his legs free from the sheets, and pull himself upright, resting on his elbows. His chest heaved. The images still ran through his mind, and Ratonhnhaké:ton found himself taking deep breaths, gripping at his dark brown, almost ebony hair, as he attempted to flush them out. Finally, he managed to calm his jittery nerves, and stood up as he swung his legs off the large memory foam mattress, and onto the plush, thick carpet of his bedroom floor. The thick white fibres were soft against his soles as he stood, up, his body aching from the nightmare and willing him to go back to bed to sleep some more. Warily, he took a glance at the electronic clock by his bed side. '07:24' it read. He still didn't need to be up for a while. Even if he was away from school for the holidays, his father demanded he be up for eight o'clock at the latest so he could get on with the other things he had to learn about, and was forced to do. 

So, the slow process of the morning in the Kenway Manor began. Ratonhnhaké:ton, or Connor, as his father had taken to calling him for ease, and shortness, was quickly looking in the large, full body mirror he had sat next to his walk-in wardrobe. His entire body glistened with sweat, and the bottoms he had put on to sleep in were stuck to the insides on his thighs and the backs of his knees. He winced as he peered up as his tangled mop of choppy dark hair and the dark rings around his eyes. Even his copper coloured skin was pale from the lack of sleep he'd been getting. All in all, he looked a mess, something he knew he would be berated over if he was to even place one toe out of his room looking like he did. Tugging a few strands of his hair out of his face, he decided that a shower was probably best. Looking like this when his father was on the prowl, an upstanding member of the British upper class by birth and nature, was suicide. The man would scrub him clean himself if he had to. That was a mistake he'd never make again- once was more than enough.

After a good, long, red hot shower, Ratonhnhaké:ton felt much more inclined to go and choose out and outfit to spend the day in. He knew that he had an all afternoon training session to attend, never mind the ridiculous chess game with his grandfather. Edward was always finding and learning new ways to beat him, and after losing twenty five games and winning only two, he was becoming a little bit annoyed and fed up with it. Why he had to continue playing against him, he'd never know. Connor no longer saw the point to it anymore, but he continued to have a match with his grandfather every time they spoke, as requested of him. He knew the old man was crazy on the salty sea air from his youth, but sometimes his ramblings about how chess and ship battles were the same grew somewhat intense...well,it was more or less a jumble of words that Ratonhnhaké:ton could not decipher. Connor didn't dare take the bottle of rum away from him, but his father was usually the one to berate his own father before throwing the liquor into the fire. Edward would smirk and slip back into his normal care free facade, before pulling another bottle out from under the table. Apparently the drunk stunt was an act to annoy Haytham. One that always worked. Despite himself, Connor always found that he could not suppress the grin that almost split his face in half as they both burst into mad laughter. 

After choosing a black t-shirt, the print of three grey wolves howling at a full moon on the front, and a durable pair of dark coloured jeans, Connor slipped on his converse, tucking the laces into them half-heartedly before pocketing his new iphone. His hair was a little more tame, and he'd pulled the top half back into a small tight pony tail at the back of his head. Still, a few dark brown strands curled against his forehead and escaped from behind his ears. Huffing he flipped his hand at his reflection in the mirror and cracked his door open, peering left and right down the hall. A lone guard shuffled from foot to foot at the end of the great tiled hall, muttering to himself, his pistol holstered with his taser, and the baton they were all given resting at his other hip. Satisfied no one was going to pester him, or want to make uncomfortable conversation, Ratonhnhaké:ton slipped out of his room, careful to softly ease the door closed behind him, and padded down the hall, swiftly taking the left turn towards the large dining area of the mansion. Hopefully breakfast was already on the table so he wouldn't have to sit and talk to his family for too long. There was only so long he could handle with his overbearing father and grandfather. 

The dinning room was quiet. Connor poked his head into the room, dark eyes curious, but found it deserted, apart from the food laid out, silver coloured lids over the serving platters. Stealthily, he slipped inside, softly moving over to the table, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking against the mahogany flooring. Nothing stirred, and the ticks of the grandfather clock across the room for him ticked sullenly to itself, chiming as it reached quarter past the hour. Ratonhnhaké:ton shrugged, tugging out a chair before sitting down at the great wood table. He was quick to reach for the dishes of sausages and bacon, before shovelling scrambled eggs onto his plate as well. Connor's appetite was always large in a morning, and after devouring the plate he already had, two slices of toast, an apple and an orange, he was finally full. A glass of orange juice later and a cup of coffee, and he was ready for the day, energised and contently full. That was just, exactly when his grandfather chose to join him, yawning and scratching at his mop of blond, almost grey hair.

Edward had once been a sailor, well, a captain was what he liked to call himself, in the Caribbean. He'd done some somewhat questionable trading amongst the Caribbean islands and Cuba, trading illegal Cuban products and making a fortune in the Cuban rum and cigar industries, along side, less than legal, drugs and contraband. Although the Panthera mansion had been passed down from Kenway to Kenway along the line, they were much better off than most families due to their earned money from Edward's ventures across the ocean. The old man might have gotten old, but his ears still heard everything, and the sharp blue eyes still observed anything that might move like a predator. He was older now, but the male Lion under the surface was far from docile. Ratonhnhaké:ton had heard stories. Apparently Edward had once not hesitated to rip out a man's throat, fighting the poor younger male to the death in a battle for leadership. No one had forgotten, and, despite the happy-go-lucky attitude he wore now, Connor saw the cat under the surface, as though his grandfather was merely an illusion, in place of the predator so many feared. 

Edward sat down with another yawn, his blond and grey mane ruffled, sticking out at all angles form his head. The blue striped pyjamas did not help his crumpled and 'fresh out of bed' look. If Haytham was even to catch a glimpse of his own father, he would drag him back to his room and dress himself if needs be. Connor knew this all too well. His grandfather gave him a grin before shovelling a piled of bacon and fried eggs onto his plate, the fried bread not too far behind, beans were then slopped on top as Edward searched for the plate of sausages. Connor chuckled, pushing the plate over to his grandfather. Edward groaned, pulling the plate towards himself before grabbing at them greedily. After devouring a few mouthfuls of the various foods on his plate he managed to say something.

“So me boy, where's your dad?” Edward put another fork full in his mouth, humming in question, before grumbling to himself as beans slid off his fork and down the front of his pyjama top. Connor shrugged, filing another glass with juice from the pitcher.  
“I have not seen him yet. I imagine he's in another meeting he hasn't told us about.” His voice was neutral, trying to show an impassive position, but the bitter sharpness to the words did not go unnoticed by Edward.  
“Come on lad. You know he's busy, especially with me retiring and all. Sometimes he just,” He rotated his wrist in a vague gesture, “forgets to tell people. He's been like it ever since he was young. Taking other people's problems as his own, trying to shoulder everything by himself. He's only grown worse over the years. It really started when he was about twenty five-” Ratonhnhaké:ton coughed into his fist, cutting Edward's tirade off. His grandfather huffed, eating another mouthful of his food.  
“I understand. I just- It does not matter. Do you still want that chess match later?” Connor bit his lip, avoiding expressing what he felt. His grandfather would be last person he told his feelings to. Edward's grin was wicked, slicing across his face, cat like and coy, all pearly white teeth in a show of dominance.  
“Oh I am, lad. I am definitely ready to whoop your arse again.” 

Connor gave him a smile, before excusing himself, and leaving through the great wood door he had used to enter. Spending the morning going over his books seemed like a good idea. He needed to be sure he had retained the school knowledge over the summer, and perhaps he could get in some reading about the War of Independence while he was at it. It was such an interesting subject. The war for freedom from the British had great importance to him. Sometimes he found himself wondering if he could do the same to his father. Beat him and be free and independent. Free of all the lessons and self-defence classes. He could only put up with it. It was his duty after all.

The morning passed quickly. Ratonhnhaké:ton looked up from the books at his desk hours later, bleary eyed and tired from the brain work. Tugging his ear phones out he moved his phone onto the small docking station in his room. The soft strumming of a guitar filled the room as the singer began to sing the lyrics, relaxing Connor somewhat as he pulled off his normal clothes, and tugged on his jogging bottoms and a vest. He pulled his old trainers out from under the bed and tied them up before grabbing his towel and phone and leaving. He knew better than to be late for training sessions with Arno. The Frenchman might have been two years older than him, but boy was he a stickler for making him run laps. Something he could do, but did not enjoy. 

Arno was no different today. He was watching the time on a golden pocket watch he always carried with him as Connor slipped into the room. The Frenchman hummed to himself, clicking the lid down on the face of the watch before giving Connor a large toothy grin.  
“On time I see today mon amie. Learning that laps aren't fun?” Ratonhnhaké:ton growled at him.  
“Yes actually. But aren't you meant to be training me? Can we get on with that before I tell my father you are not doing your job correctly?” Arno snorted, sliding his pocket watch back into the zip pocket of his bottoms as Connor narrowed his dark eyes dangerously. He slipped across the room gracefully, grabbing two sets of escrisma sticks for them to fight with. He tossed them to Connor somewhat nonchalantly, before a smirk tugged his lips upwards with a bout of arrogance.   
“Let us see just how much you've improved chaton!”

Before Connor could even adjust his grip on the two weapons in his hand he grunted as one of Arno's own sticks connected with his arm. His grips slipped and the sticks fell to the floor with a clatter. Arno's face was a cool mask as he leapt again, smacking one weapon into Connor's abdomen and the other down onto his shoulder. Another blow came to his leg and he growled, rolling to dodge the next that was aiming for his left side. Connor tucked as he rolled, grabbing the two escrisma to block Arno as he launched himself across the room and took another swing at his abdomen and the top of his arm. The sticks met with a clang of metal and Arno pushed harder, a grin turning his mouth up mockingly.  
“I see you have learnt something, finally. I thought you were going to stand there and take blows all day!” Connor growled, slipping one stick from its defensive position against Arno's, before twisting to the right. The metal met with Arno's chin, causing his teeth to click together with a harsh sound. The Frenchman managed to block the other one coming for his knee, twisting the stick in his grip, aiming it for Connor's temple. Connor leant backwards, the swing leaving a rush of air in it's wake, ruffling his hair. Arno didn't stop, raining another barrage of blows down on Connor in an attempt to out speed him and get a hit in. Connor methodically parried them, twisting left and right and dodging around, getting a small hit in every now and then. 

Arno was quicker to tire, his brow furrowed as sweat rolled down his forehead. He became slower to respond to the lightning fast blows they were exchanging and he gradually gritted his teeth as he received blow after blow to his rib cage, arms and knees. Connor saw the opening and huffed swinging for Arno's temple. He took the bait, and raised both sticks to block the strike. Like a viper, Connor struck out with his other escrisma. He felt the crunch of Arno's nose under the metal through his hand. Arno stumbled backwards, clutching at his nose as it gushed with blood. Ratonhnhaké:ton was relentless as he advanced, quickly smacking the sticks out of the Frenchman's grip, sending them scattering across the mats. His other stick cracked across Arno's wrist and his foot slammed into his ribcage. Arno heaved, winded, before raising a palm in surrender, the other still clutching his nose, blood pouring through his fingers. Connor scowled before regaining himself. He stuttered apologies offering his hand to help Arno up from his back on the mat.

“Arno! I- ah apologise for that! I just, um, sort of l-lost myself and...” He took a deep breath rubbing the back of his neck, “Will your nose be okay?” Arno groaned, grabbing a fist full of tissues from the small table by the door. Holding his head back, he blinked his bright eyes, his light brown hair, tied back in a pony tail, falling over his shoulder. The tissues were quickly drenched in blood and he pulled out another fist full, holding his head back, his face towards the ceiling. Arno winced as he pushed his fingers at either sides of the bone, cracking it back into place. Connor cringed as he put the sticks away in their cases. Experimentally, Arno wiggled his nose, he winced as the pain ripped through his face, but it seemed to be okay. He pulled the tissue away, stuffing a few pieces up his nose to get the last few drops of blood.  
“Don't worry about it mon amie.” He voice was muffled from the tissue and the pain in his nose, “At least now we know you have in fact improved!” He laughed, wincing again as he moved the bone in his nose. 

Connor moved closer, inspecting the obvious crook now in his nose. Arno chuckled again flicking him on the forehead, “Now look what you've done chaton. You've gone and ruined my good looks.” The swelling around his eyes had started and Connor pushed him towards the door.  
“At least get it looked at. That way I wont feel so guilty.” Arno huffed, folding his arms across his chest. Even like this he still stood an inch or two shorted than Connor.  
“You know just as well as I it will be perfectly fine tomorrow. Or did you forget we heal a little faster than normal humans? We are descendants of the Mystics. We have their heavenly healing powers too, little Connor.” He chuckled as Connor stropped over to the weapons table, huffing and grumbling like he usually did when he was upset or annoyed. Arno chuckled before he unclipped a pistol from the wall, one amongst many black and silver coloured guns mounted there. He clicked a magazine into the gun before tossing it to Connor. The native caught it annoyed. He looked at the side.  
“You really just threw this at me without the safety on?!” Arno shrugged, sauntering over to the shooting range.  
“Hey, it didn't go off. We're both alive still. Now come over here and show me what you've got.” He handed him another pistol, “Lets go little assassin.”

After shooting round after round in the targets, Arno had finally deemed it time to move on, and to run laps before a session of knife throwing and a small round with Connor's personal favourite, tomahawk fighting. It was something he could easily beat Arno at but, the Frenchman always responded with sword fighting, and that was something Connor could never best him at. Arno's moves were graceful and purposeful, and he always managed to dug the blunt tip of the sword into his chest before he could move to so much as parry the blow. Ratonhnhaké:ton had seen him do some intense damage to a man's chest with a real blade, the red streaks crossed each other in the middle, blood pouring from the wounds. Arno had abstained from pushing the tip into the fool's throat, but had still got a berating for fighting on the premisses. He got of more likely than most would have, but their kind preferred to keep affairs to themselves, lest the public found out about the mutant freaks that could turn into vicious, enormous predatory animals.

Ratonhnhaké:ton huffed as they finished their intense session of training. Sweat had drenched his top, and it clung to his torso and muscles grossly. He imagined the both of them didn't smell much better. Arno's chest heaved as he came to a stop by Connor's panting figure.  
“You are...dismissed...wow...ugh...” Smugly, Connor watched as Arno flopped down onto the stairs up to the patio doors, throwing his head back as he drank from a large litre bottle of water, greedily gulping at it.   
“A little out...of shape are we?” Connor himself was huffing, trying to regain his breath. Arno scowled at him before jerking a thumb to the door as he finished drinking the last of the water, crumpling and tossing the bottle into the cooler by his side.  
“Get out of here chaton!” He smirked, the dark stubble on his face stretching slightly, “No doubt your father wants to meet with you.” Connor's phone buzzed in his pocket with a text. He slid it open, 'My office now.' from his ever concerned father. Arno grinned as Connor stomped past him, moody and annoyed. Opening the door, he sneered at Arno with one last growl before he stomped inside and slammed the door behind him. 

After having another shower, and changing back into his casual, not-sweaty clothes, Ratonhnhaké:ton knocked on the door to his father's office. The dark wood was tall and imposing, and the black cast iron handles did nothing to help the feeling. A sharp, quiet 'come in' resounded through the wood and Connor opened the door just wide enough for him to slip inside the room. The office was more of a ballroom to Connor in that moment. The desk his father was stood behind, his back to him, seemed a mile away and the ceilings and walls seemed to be stretching away from him. The dark wooden desk was meticulously stacked with papers and the stationary placed in a pot. Even the thick carpet did little to quell the ghostly chill Connor felt as he moved further into his father's lair. 

Haytham swivelled on his heels, his hands clutched behind his back. His inky hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail at the nape of his neck, the ribbon blood red. Sharp steel coloured eyes swiped over Connor's figure as he approached and he saw the muscles of his lips twitch as he repressed a comment about his attire. The Lupus were hardly his father's favourite shifter family. He had a distaste for the smell of 'wet dog' was what he'd say. Connor just assumed he had some sort of dislike or rivalry with their leader. Not a wrinkle was present in his dark red shirt and navy coloured suit jacket and trousers, his leather shoes were shinned to perfection. Haytham nodded towards the seat, and Connor felt somewhat inadequate in that moment, as though he was being judged.  
“Please. Take a seat Connor.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton silently sneered to himself as he seated himself in the black leather chair across from his father at the desk. Haytham strode over to his own high-backed, leather office chair, reclining in the seat as he sat, steepling his fingers and resting his elbows on his thighs. His eyes cut into Connor like a razor and immediately, he felt uncomfortable, almost like the chair was too big for him. Connor huffed haughtily.  
“I would think my own father would be able to use my real name. It is Ratonhnhaké:ton, not Connor.” Haytham rolled his eyes, somewhat annoyed with the reoccurring subject. Connor continued to grumble under his breath as his father gave him a pointed look.  
“That name is a nightmare. To address you by it every time is hard work, especially when I am to be saying your name many times.” He rotated his wrist somewhat languidly, bored with the subject already. Connor growled, drawing his father's eyes immediately. Haytham's grey eyes bore a challenge, though it was obvious at his age, who the victor would be. He grumbled his own distaste, “Do not start this again boy.”

Sighing, Haytham was quick to attempt to move the conversation on. He fixed his sharp eyes on Connor before speaking.  
“I'm guessing you're wondering why I've called you here?” Haytham's voice was cool as he spoke.  
“I doubt it was for a social call, father.” Connor snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back in the plush leather seat defensively. Haytham controlled his temper, merely frowning in annoyance.  
“I need to discuss the matter of 'The Vicissitudinis' with you. You are of age now to undergo the change. Therefore, we need to arrange a time and date for this to occur in the eyes of representatives from each of the other clans.” Haytham gave Connor a scathing look as he blanched, startled, “As you well know, this will decide your future amongst our clans, and amongst your own. I have no doubts you will perform well, but I needed to make sure you knew of it before I dragged you to the high council building for it.” Connor felt himself go cold. The Vicissitudinis was not something many enjoyed and something he had long since been dreading.   
“Now go. Your grandfather has been nattering to me all day about the chess match you promised him.” Stifly, Connor moved to comply, exiting the room silently.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the house was quiet, as always, and Connor quickly made his way towards the large patio where Edward, his grandfather, had decided the match would take place. A large conservatory extended out from the grand lounge of the estate and large patio doors led out onto a expanse of wooden panelling, a built in wooden shade shadowing half and the other open to the sun. Edward, like most lions, enjoyed the shade in the afternoon, and on most days Connor would find him outside sprawled out in the shade reading, watching the training or playing a game with himself, a youngster or sometimes Haytham. The older man generally liked to stay outdoors, unless it was cold, then he sat inside by the fire like he did on an evening. Chess had quickly become a pass time for the oldest Kenway and the introduction of games like draughts and morris meant that Connor was dragged from his own room more and more for games against the old man. Today was no different and his grandfather was perched in the shade, his hair pulled back from his face in a messy pony tail, the choppy pieces of greying hair sticking out at angles. Edward hadn't shaved that morning and the slowly growing stubble was very prominent across his jaw and chin. Connor sighed to himself quietly before he began to make his way over, silently praying for the match to be a short one.

At his approach, Edward's ear twitched and he turned his head to face the direction of the thud of Connor's shoes against the decking. His expression was almost bored, until he realised it was in fact Connor coming towards him. Seeing his grandson, a wicked grin pulled his lips backwards and he shot up from his sprawled out position of the large bench, wincing slightly as he sat up a little too fast for the old scars across his right hip- the remanence of a great smack from raking tiger claws in his youth. The old scars still caused him some pain with quick movements due to the tightness of the skin and scar tissue. Blowing strands of hair out of his face, his grandfather stood up, stretching out like the cat he was, before placing a large hand on Connor's head and ruffling his hair. Connor groaned and gave a little sigh of annoyance, which only made Edward give out great peels of hearty laughter in response. Returning back his bench he laid out a chess board across the marble top table and began placing the pieces on their assigned squares. As usual he laid out the black pieces on his own side, and placed the white at Connor's end of the board. Connor sat on the wooden chair his grandfather had already pulled out for him, the plush cushion overly stuffed to try and ease to pain of the stiff wooden slats. Placing the Kings down into position on the board, Edward leaned back and grinned once more, placing his arms over the back of the large bench he was sat on.

Connor looked at the immaculate carved stone pieces for a moment, and then proceeded to move a pawn to his left two places forwards. Once done, he placed his elbows on his thighs and perched forwards in the chair watching the pieces with mild interest. Edward reached forwards and moved his own pawn forwards a single place before he started a conversation up.  
“So my boy, a little bird told me your to go and suffer the Vicissitudinis rite soon.” He waited for Connor to move another one of his pawns before chuckling and swooping in to claim it.   
“That little bird being Arno then grandfather.” Connor scoffed, mildly amused and annoyed at the same time. The Frenchman was very good at hearing what he wasn't supposed to, but Connor assumed that was one of the perks of being a trained assassin. “But yes, my father told me when he demanded my presence earlier.” He impersonated Haytham's accent poorly but watched as Edward burst into another bout of deep laughter with a small feeling of accomplishment. Edward dabbed at his eyes and moved his bishop out into play, still chuckling, his shoulders shuddering slightly.

“Okay lad, I'll admit I had Arno listen in on your little conversation. But Haytham, my own son, doesn't tell me a thing anymore. You'd think I never used to be the head of this family.” Edward huffed, watching as his pawn was claimed by one of Connor's own pieces of radiant white stone. Connor's eyebrows furrowed as he watched another one of Edward's jet black piece move across the board.  
“In truth, he doesn't tell me anything either. I don't even see him much anymore.” He smiled a little, moving his own bishop out into play, “I just hope he's not arranging me a marriage of some sort.” Edward snorted in laughter once more and cackled, moving another piece along the black marked squares.  
“I should think not laddie! Your far too young to be married! Plus, you're too scrawny.” He poked at Connor's developing muscle in his arms with one finger and the finger of his other hand poked at the increasingly solid muscle of his chest. His eyebrows shot up and he squeezed the muscle of his arm again then poked down Connor's chest and abdomen. “Just when did my little hair pulling grandson get so buff? Hmm? You'll be ripped before you know it lad!” Connor squirmed away from Edward's hands with a flush upon his cheeks and he huffed haughtily shoving another of his pieces along the board, straight into his grandfather's path. With a groan he smacked his head with his palm and watched as his bishop was taken.  
“And that, laddie, is why you don't let your emotions get the better of you.” Edward gave him a wink and waited for Connor to return his mind back to their game at hand. 

Connor was proud to say it took another two hours for his grandfather to beat him. But, he was beaten all the same by the cunning old lion. Admitting defeat he stood up and stretched, his spine popping gratefully, after having been perched in the uncomfortable wooden chair for nearly a good three hours. The sun was beginning to set now, and the bird sang from the trees surrounding the secluded estate. Edward pushed the pieces back into their small wooden container and placed them under the bench he was sat on before rolling out onto his back, stretching his arms above his head, trying not to wince. He'd discarded his shirt during the game, claiming to be too warm, and the various black inked tattoos he had tattooed onto his skin as a youngster were on display for all to see. Secretly, Connor thought it had been due to two girls that had walked past (both were part of the lioness hunting party charged with tactical manoeuvres to corner enemies) and Edward's need to impress and try to woo women. They had given the both of them cool glances from the path, though both were less interested in his grandfather and more in him. Their eyes had flashed gold as they eyed him, obviously showing their interest in his development. They spoke quietly to each other, and one curled a blond lock around her finger, both still staring at him with slitted pupils. A strange shiver ran through him from their gazes, something stirred deep within him, growling and tearing at him, but it wasn't attraction to the both of them, it was something he couldn't quite place.

He was brought back to reality by the clicking of Edward's fingers by his ear. Ratonhnhaké:ton snapped his head to the right, away from the impossibly loud noise. Edward raised a blond eyebrow at him, confused by his extreme reaction to the simple click by his ear.   
“Are you alright Connor?” Edward drew a little closer and eyed his face with those deceptive baby blue eyes. Connor flinched away, clutching at his head a little from the sheer amount of noise he could hear, a throbbing running through his temples and the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. Edward sat him down in one of the chairs, easily manoeuvring Connor with a hidden strength. Connor clutched his head in pain and let out a small groan. Edward's speech was like a drum next to his ear and he heard the distance approach of Arno. How he knew it was Arno he had no idea. The Frenchman was breathing heavily and even that hurt his ears. Edward tilted Connor's head up and his mouth twisted in shock, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Arno too watched Connor's face in bewilderment. Ratonhnhaké:ton tugged his head away but was shocked when his ears popped, the ear drums flaring with pain, then, all was quiet once more. He sat up and rubbed at his ears listening carefully. Everything sounded normal again. Arno took Connor's face his his hand and tugged it from side to side, amazement still evident on his features.

Connor was quick to regain himself and slapped Arno's hands away, standing up, breathing heavily, still in shock from what had just occurred. Edward looked a little confused and he stood up, scratching the skin where a ship wheel was printed on his pectoral. He turned his back revealing the large tattooed lion head and mane. This tattoo had vivid colours painted across it, the fur was matted with blood and Connor cringed a little tugging at the hair atop his head uncertainly.  
“What-what just happened? My hearing. Everything was so loud.” Arno peered to Edward for guidance, as did Connor. His grandfather rolled his shoulders and turned around with a chuckle.  
“Well I think that great beast is just raring to get out my boy!” He laughed loudly and walked back over to the bench, pulling a stashed bottle of rum out from behind a plant pot, “You gave me quite the scare, and that is the most violent pre-shifting tremor I've ever seen, but it just means you're more ready for the shift than your pa first thought. I'll have to go and have a word about it with him I think.” Arno still appeared pale but he offered a meek smile to try and console Ratonhnhaké:ton a little. 

Edward took a great swig of the rum in his hand and hissed as the liquid seared the back of his throat.   
“Arno, you can continue to do whatever you were doing,” The Frenchman only rolled his eyes and jogged back down the plank stairs and sprinted off into the shrubbery, before shifting into a sleek spotted leopard, and bounding off once more. Connor hadn't even noticed the man was naked in the first place, he'd been too caught up in his own mind, and coughed a little awkwardly as Arno bounded off, his backside visible to the two of them still stood on the decking. “Now you lad, need to go back to your room and 'chill'- isn't that what all you cool kids say nowadays?” Connor rolled his eyes and started back to his room with a small smile.  
“Yes granddad, just like 'YOLO' is still hip and cool.” Edward flapped a hand at him with a snort and Connor carefully shut the door behind him as he turned towards his room. 

A bell rang for dinner and Connor stood up off of his bed, stretching out slightly from being laid reading his book. The history book had been assigned for them to read over the summer and he was almost finished. The subject was interesting but he was glad that he would be able to escape for a short amount of time. Not bothering with his shoes or socks he slipped out into the hall and padded towards the dinning room he had been in this morning. The smell of roasted meats had his stomach churning hungrily, and Connor sped up a little in anticipation for the finely cooked food that would be laid out before them in the hall. Dinner was private between the three Kenways in the house, but the rest of the Panthera clan would dine together at the other side of the enormous estate, leaving Ratonhnhaké:ton with only his grandfather for company once more, unless Haytham decided to join them. Connor pushed open the door slightly and peered in, spotting his grandfather preening his nails, buffing them against his shirt in boredom. With a sigh, thankful it was only the two of them again, he slipped into the room, but was cut off by an icy quip. 

“You are late Connor. Are you usually this late for your training?” Haytham drawled from the head of the table, his fingers tapping at the crook of his elbow, his arms crossed across his chest. His steel coloured eyes flared a little in annoyance like hot metal pools. Edward sat up straight in his seat and beckoned a reluctant Connor closer.  
“The lad has had a hard day Haytham. Just leave him be.” Edward gave a reassuring smile to Connor.   
“So I've heard.” Haytham hummed clicking his fingers for the food to be brought out to them. The dishes were set down before them. Roast beef, crispy potatoes, a variety of five vegetables and a thick red wine sauce was placed down in a jug separately for them to pour over the food. Quietly, they said their thanks to the gods before tucking into the food. Connor, still uncomfortable, poured a generous amount of the sauce over his food and silently chewed his mouthfuls. His appetite was all but forgotten at the unwanted appearance of his father. Haytham didn't seem fazed by the cool atmosphere but soon perked up.

After slowly chewing a crisped potato, Haytham speared a floret of broccoli on his fork and eyed his son.  
“I heard that you had a bout of shifting tremors today. Are you alright?” Haytham then placed the broccoli in his mouth and chewed with only a mild interest in the food. Connor knew the question was just a nicety, his father really wanted to know what had happened. Finishing a chunk of beef, Ratonhnhaké:ton looked up to his father and nodded.  
“Yes I did. I'm fine, don't worry about it. My hearing was just very sensitive. It was strange. I could hear the birds moving and ruffling their feather in the trees at the end of the pathway near the decking. Everything was so loud.” Connor then stabbed a potato and began eating again to cut of any sort of follow-up reply Haytham could have wanted. His father eyed him for a moment before switching his liquid metal gaze to Edward.  
“Is that true?” He placed a hand under his chin, thoughtfully taking in what was being said. Edward nodded, munching a large mouthful of green beans.  
“Aye. That's what happened, poor lad was in agony. But-” Edward halted himself eyeing Connor for a moment, “Never mind, it doesn't matter. I'll tell you later laddie.” He then returned to his dinner, and Connor frowned from across the table. 

Confused and in the dark, Ratonhnhaké:ton rolled his eyes as he received a displeased look from Haytham.  
“I wish you would wear something a little presentable to dinner, never mind wearing shoes or even socks Connor.” He shook his head a little but tried to lighten the mood, making an effort to have a conversation rather than a scolding session. “Did you finally beat your grandfather today?” Edward guffawed from his place at the table and Connor huffed.  
“No I did not. The old man still beat me, as always.” Haytham gave a small chuckle, and Connor paused a moment- it was rare for his father to laugh. Edward pointed his fork at Connor still chuckling.  
“Aye, I beat the whippersnapper, but he gave me a run for mi' money. Two an' a half hours Haytham! Longest match we've had yet!” He continued to laugh and reached for his drink, taking a few long gulps of the red wine Haytham had obviously chosen for the meal. Connor turned up his nose at the drink and grabbed the jug of iced water in the centre of the table, pouring himself a glass in place of the strong sweet wine. Haytham gave him a warm smile from the head of the table.  
“He'll be giving you more than that soon. I see Arno is training you hard. You've gotten somewhat bulkier.” Haytham chuckled and he too took a sip of his wine.  
“Well, I'm never not tired, so that must say something...” He paused for a moment. He wanted to ask about the curious stares he was getting around the estate, but how to word it escaped him.

Haytham was quick to note his son's unease, and watched as the boy fidgeted in his chair, squirming a little as he worked up a little bit of an embarrassed flush. Haytham placed his wine glass down and quirked an eyebrow.  
“Is there something you want to ask me Connor?” Haytham leant back in his seat and hummed, a little amused. Edward smirked from across the table to Haytham's left and he looked over to his son, watching Connor scowl at Edward before turning his dark brown eyes back to him.  
“Everyone I come across keeps staring at me strangely, and...I don't exactly understand why. Especially the women. Its so...unnatural.” Edward burst into laughter and Haytham gave him a cool look, unamused by his teasing. Turning his gaze back to Connor he smiled a little.  
“Its a natural reaction for them to have. Even now you're giving off a powerful scent to everyone around you, and, everyone can sense the shifting aura surrounding you. Its an exciting time for the clan, and most are more interested in what cat you will be able to shift into, though I suppose the women will have other reasons to be interested. You are, after all, a single male among a mass of females without mates. They all want your attention.” Connor flushed again, a little embarrassed and turned his face back to his food, trying to cool his cheeks. Edward grinned and laughed.  
“Of course he'll be a hit with the ladies! He's a Kenway! Just look at that jaw! They'll be clawing each other's eyes out just to be around him!” Connor huffed and speared a carrot as the other two males just laughed to themselves. 

After the tense and embarrassing affair that was dinner, Connor had returned to his room, only to want to go outside and try and cool his heated cheeks down. The night air was cool, and he desperately wished to escape for a little while and have some solitude, only him with nature. Nodding to himself, he quickly headed out of his room, shoving his feet into a pair of old trainers before heading out into the hall and down towards the doors that lead out onto the patio. Opening the large double doors, Connor slipped outside and marvelled for a moment at the large looming moon overhead. It was almost full. No doubt in a couple of days it would be a full moon. Peering around the paths he deemed it clear and scampered across towards the hedges. Following the neatly cut green hedge down he eventually came to a small opening. Roses wound up around an archway that started the opening of the small maze they had on the estate grounds. It was sometimes used for training and Connor had fallen into the traps of paint ball guns many times before, Arno shouting at him through an ear piece as the person that had got him chortled. The hedges were beginning to grow out again and Connor gave the area around him one last look before walking into the maze. He knew exactly how to get out of it, but found himself wandering around aimlessly, just looking for a new part he hadn't explored yet. 

Turning left and right, Connor eventually found his way to a large pavilion for a band. The large stone structure however, merely had benches along the inside and a small circular stone table in the middle. Connor looked up at the ivy that cascaded down from the slate roof and smiled fondly before he walked over, taking a seat on one of the cold stone benches. Shivering, he rubbed at his arms a little, regretting not taking a jacket. The night had cooled significantly, and if he breathed out forcefully enough, he could see his breath form mist. The stars winked overhead and Connor reclined back against the stone marvelling at the night sky. Orion stood proudly in the sky, his bow taught and his dogs surrounding him. It was then that a large rustling noise caught Connor's attention. One of the large hedges in front of him rustled loudly, as though someone was running their hand along it as they walked. Connor sighed and got up, preparing to run and hide elsewhere. That was until the sound of sniffling cut him off. Taking a deep breath he huddled further back in the stone pavilion and waited. A low growl sounded and a head peaked around the green edge of the hedge. 

A large wolf head bore its fangs at him, growling lowly. The fur was white and earthy brown, the brown like a trim along the various white stripes. Connor went rigid and stared at the large beast as it came prowling towards him. It was larger than any Grey Wolf he had ever seen, but still not extremely large, especially since it was in fact a shifter. He could sense the aura surrounding the creature, and it snarled, licking the front of its teeth threateningly. Still, Connor didn't move, he sat still and watched as it prowled closer, sniffing at him uncertainly before growling and snapping close to his hand. The Lupin and Panthera family had never been close, and Connor could only guess that this wolf could only smell the stench of cat on him. The wolf then tipped its head to one side and stared at him with dark, almost black, eyes. Humming to itself it then backed away and sat still. It was then that Ratonhnhaké:ton noticed the wound on the wolf's chest and back. Blood had matted the fur surrounding them and only the one on its back continued to bleed a little. Carefully, he got to his feet and began to slowly edge his way towards the creature. 

After a warning growl or two he was finally allowed close, and quickly he set to looking at the wounds. As he placed a hand on the wolf's back he felt the spine shift, and immediately he jumped back. Watching as the fur was drawn back into the skin and the bones shifted, contorting for a man to stand on two feet. When the grotesque show was finally over Connor came face to face with a weary boy, about his own age. The kid was panting, large tired bags under his eyes from the injuries and probably extreme exertion from a fight or two. Noticing his staring, he unsteadily tried to get to his feet, but only succeeded in falling back onto his knees panting heavily once more. His hair was pulled into two pigtails either side of his face, parts braided and others secured with bands, and a large portion was tugged back over the top to keep it out of his face. He had a similar skin tone to Connor if not a little darker. His dark eyes peered up at Connor with a small frown but he shook his head and, once again, tried to stand. Connor rushed to try and aid him but was quickly pushed away with a scowl now painting the boys features.  
“Don't touch me Panthera.” Connor frowned and huffed before moving in anyway and helping to tug the boy to his feet. He was heavier than he looked.  
“For someone who isn't as tall as me you sure are heavy.” The other boy huffed, finally getting to his feet, shakily leaning on Connor for support.  
“Oh that's it make a joke about me being fat before you kill me.”

Connor looked at him, confused.  
“Why would I want to kill you? We might be in opposing clans, but I don't think that requires me to kill you.” The other looked astonished for a moment but was quick to tug away from Connor's support and stood upright by himself, naked and shivering slightly in the cold air. The gashes on his chest and back were already beginning to heal, but slowly, unnaturally slow for a shifter. Connor eyed the large claw gashes and prodded one, earning a hiss from the boy.  
“Watch it. They hurt.” Connor then wished he had brought a coat of some sort, just so he could give the boy some sort of decency. He awkwardly shuffled from one foot to the other.  
“So, what is your name?” The other boy, wincing as the wounds failed to close, only scowled at him.  
“It is Kanen'tó:kon, if you have to know. Now I need to go. I wasn't supposed to get spotted or run further into the Panther's territory.” He then tried to hobble away, clutching at the wounds as he tried to shift his tired body back into wolf form. Connor quickly grappled his shoulder and pulled the boy towards the hedge and into the shadows. He opened his mouth only to have Connor clamp his hand over it. A cougar stalked past heading in the other direction, growling and snarling, it's tail flicking as it trotted off, still scenting the air for its prey. 

Kanen'tó:kon sighed in relief as the cat passed them by, somehow not spotting them as it did so. Turning to Connor he smiled slightly, nervously.  
“Thank you. What is your name, since you know mine now?” Connor gave him a small smile offering his hand.  
“Ratonhnhaké:ton. But most people call me Connor. My mother chose it but no one can pronounce it right.” Kanen'tó:kon shook it firmly. Connor scratched the back of his neck and Kanen'tó:kon frowned a little, thinking about something. He shook his head again, like he had done when he was a wolf and offered another nervous smile.  
“You wouldn't happen to know the way out of here would you Ratonhnhaké:ton? I don't really want to have to fight those cats again.” Kanen'tó:kon shuddered a little and Connor was stunned for a moment. It was nice to have someone correctly pronounce his real name for once. Nodding he glanced around again and signalled for Kanen'tó:kon to follow him.

They quickly reached the exit of the maze, and Connor navigated past the sentries, avoiding their watch sites to lead Kanen'tó:kon around to the forest near the estate far back left of the estate. Hopefully he could bolt through the woods and cut off into the country side to rejoin his pack. Connor had received little information about what he was doing sneaking around the Kenway estate but he was too tired to pry and let it go easily. Something about Kanen'tó:kon made him trustworthy, some sort of gut feeling. Stopping by the fence he pointed at the trees.  
“Keep going for about two or three miles and cut right. That should lead you to the main road. Then its up to you where you want to go from there.” Kanen'tó:kon nodded and looked at the trees for a moment before turning back to Connor once more.  
“Thank you my friend. I'll pay you back somehow.” And with that he slowly shifted back into the white and brown streaked wolf and bounded off into the trees, a distant howl was his goodbye.

Trudging back to the estate, Connor had been caught out past curfew and was immediately marched back to his room. The door was slammed shut with the promise that his father would hear about his late night escapades. At least, he hoped, they hadn't caught Kanen'tó:kon. If they had, his father would receive a pelt from the tracking team the next day. He cringed at the thought and tugged off his clothes before pulling on a pair of plain black bottoms and snuggling down into the sheets of his bed, exhausted and drained. Something, however, didn't sit right, and Connor drifted off into a fitful sleep.

He dreamt of the full moon that night. A chorus of echoing animal cries filled the air and he saw the floating figure of his mother, bloodied and battered as always, drift towards an empty, sandy fountain. She placed he finger on the stone and it turned black, blood erupting from the spout in the fishes mouth at the top of the structure. The viscous liquid dripped down the levels and onto his mother's waiting hands where she let it drip between her fingers, back into the pool at the bottom. An eagle soared over head and dived towards the ground, a falcon swooping down before it to claw at something. A spider span a web above the statue of a god, a wolf leapt at it, snapping at it's legs a komodo dragon slinking up towards the web, poison dripping from it's fangs. Two bears wrestled in one corner and a snake began to coil its way up to the spout of the fountain where it flicked its tongue, staring straight at Connor. Connor looked down at his hands to see them spouting and shedding different coloured furs and pelts. He screamed and roared at the sky in dozens of voices before a Panther leaped from the bushes and ran towards him metal coloured eyes bright and fierce. It sprang at him, claws extended and roared, teeth bearing down on his throat. His mother screamed.

Connor awoke, once more covered in sweat. His ear rung madly and he panted, untangling the mass of sheets and blankets from around his ankles. Tugging his hair form his face, he wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead and aimed to control his breathing. Taking deep breaths, he managed to calm himself somewhat, but gave a startled cry as a knock on the door sounded through the room. His father's voice rang through the room.  
“Connor. You need to pack. The rite is set to take place the day after tomorrow and we must fly to Israel this evening. That is where the process must take place. You have a few hours, I suggest you get packing my boy.” He then heard the thump of Haytham's polished shoes down the hall and sighed, tugging at his chocolate coloured hair to try and calm his nerves. He was no where near ready to face this yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super pumped for writing at the moment so i got this out as fast as I could handle. I think i got as many errors as I could but let me know it you find any.
> 
> Let me know what you think, where you think the plot is going etc, its nice to hear people's theories about these things! Just why do you think Haytham is being so quiet? Why is Connor being kept in the dark? Send me your thoughts people and how you think its all going to go down.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Spookworm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: (Just in case, though I'm sure they're most likely not needed)
> 
> gatto- cat  
> gatti-cats  
> mio amico- my friends  
> si- yes

_The evening before the departure._

Haytham was not known for an endless amount of patience. He had a fair amount of it, but once annoyed, it was hard to please him again. Although the man he was waiting on was, in fact, his own father, he found his restlessness growing and his patience wearing thin. The man had kept him waiting now for a good twenty minutes after dinner had finished, and Haytham had subsequently taken to pacing about his office, having originally sat in his high backed leather chair. His father was never one to keep to deadlines, and if questions were asked, he was more one to put a fist in someone's mouth than apologise, yet apparently his old age had made him no better at time keeping, if anything it had only made him worse. Sighing to himself, Haytham walked over to the hearth in his office and pulled a poker from the rack, stoking the flames for a minute before adding another log. Finishing that minor task, he moved over to his decanter and placed a couple of ice cubs in a short glass before pouring himself some fine, single malt whiskey. Tucking a stray piece of dark coloured hair behind his ear, Haytham moved over to a mirror, and ran a hand over his clean shaven face. Dark bags under his eyes were the only indication of his lack of sleep and unrest about what had occurred lately. Peering at his hair he tutted at tiny slithers of grey appearing through it and began to comb darker strands over the top to conceal the only real signs of his age. So long as his hair wasn't at the stage of his father's, he could live with it.

A knock at the door gave him a scare. Haytham rolled his eyes. Finally his father had arrived. Better late than never, he thought, before taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand and moving over to the large chair behind his desk. Languidly he moved across the plush rug in front of his dark wood desk and placed himself in the seat, spinning the whiskey over the ice in the glass as he spoke.  
"Come in father." Pressing his back into the chair Haytham raised an eyebrow at Edward's pyjamas but then sighed, flicking his wrist as though to cast the thought aside, "What was it you wanted to talk about. You looked at Connor like he was some sort of freak of nature." Haytham snorted at his own joke- they were all freaks of nature, descendants of an ancient mythological race, their ancient bloodline polluted by human blood now. Edward threw himself onto the lounge sofa across the room from Haytham and rubbed his eyes tiredly as he stared at the fire in the hearth. Haytham had never seen his own father look so haunted.

Edward blinked his baby blue eyes, the reflection of the flames dancing across them, like he was reliving a nightmarish memory. Shaking his head he stretched his arms out above his head and winced as the scar across his hip tugged and strained.  
"Haytham," Haytham rolled his eyes over to his father's form and frowned, "The boys eyes. They weren't natural. I've never seen anything like it." Edward winced and tugged his greying hair out of his face with furrowed eyebrows. Haytham took another gulp of his drink, peering into the bottom of the glass.  
"What happened?" He stiffened in his seat, pushing himself tautly upright.  
"His pupils disappeared and the whites of his eyes were engulfed. The entirety of his eyes went gold almost. Flecks of brown and green too. I have no idea what that was...I-I thought it could've been a symptom of...you know, the cross-breeding, but..." Edward fell silent and shut his eyes, breathing deeply, "It was scary Haytham. Unnatural I tell ya'." He peered back towards the flames and absently scratched at the scar tissue over his right hip.

Haytham took the information in quietly, and stood up to refill his glass from the decanter across the room. Finishing the second glass he hissed a little from the burn at the back of his throat, but poured a large double of rum for Edward. Handing the glass to his father, he returned to his seat, smoothing his sleek dark hair back into place.  
"I truly have no idea what it could mean, but I'm praying that it isn't what we fear. He's never fit in here, that much I understand, but he does not need to be ostracised any further, no more than he already is. I love him, and I understand that sometimes I'm not the best father-" Edward smirked and raised an eyebrow at him mockingly, "I am not the best father to the boy, but he needs to understand that he is the future of this clan. I can't risk losing my heir and my son. Not to those mongrels at least, and not to those vultures at TTOA. I just want him to be safe, and at least have a shot at a normal life." Both the men sat quietly for a few moments until Edward sighed, rubbing at the stubble across his jaw.  
"We all want the best for him Haytham, but this is beyond are control-"

Edward shot upright, his ears twitching. Haytham sniffed quietly and growled standing upright from his chair. A dark shadow dashed from the corner of the window, shifting before bounding off into the darkness. Haytham cursed under his breath, his eyes flicking between slits and human pupils in his anger. Edward was already striding out of the office and he shouted down the corridor to the guards as Haytham called the patrol house at the gates. They picked up on the second tone.  
"Yes sir?" Haytham slammed a palm on his desk in anger, holding back his elongating teeth.  
"We have an intruder! I suggest you get to guarding the perimeter and send out the trackers now."  
"Right away sir. Sorry sir." The guard hung up and Edward strolled back into the office a good fifteen minutes later.  
"Connor was out in the gardens. Though he was only walking around the maze. Lad didn't even know there was an alert. He's back in his room-" Haytham shook his head.  
"That scent was mongrel and I want that hound found so I can have its skin for a rug." Edward set his lips and shook his head, talking a step off of the bear skin rug beneath him, avoiding looking at the skins hung across the walls of the room.

_Present time_

Connor huffed as he lugged his suitcase down the hall of the mansion. It was eerily silent, the only sound the thump of his worn running shoes against the wood. Dark eyes scanning the doors he harrumphed as a cougar guard scuttled out of the training room, bolting towards the court yard like the rest of the household. Strangely he had yet to have been tapped on the back of his head by his father for dawdling and wasting time. Strolling along he rolled his eyes as he saw the crowded court yard of clan members coming to get a glimpse of the great Haytham's heir. He could care less for formalities like these, but Haytham was one to keep up appearances, and no doubt he would be shoved into a suit before meeting the council members of the Panthera. Connor groaned in his head and took a deep breath as he came to the large double doors of the mansion. A tiger shifter was there to meet him. His eyes were deep, shocking green, but his smile unfriendly and deadly all the same. These men and women were body guards, and Connor was only unsettled by their presence. They only meant his father was expecting potential trouble.

The body guard was quick to pop open an umbrella and hold it out over Connor's head to shield him from the drizzle of rain that was typical of English weather in the summer. Uncomfortably, Connor walked with the guard, his outfit of jeans and a checked shirt now substandard to what everyone else was dressed in. Messing with the claw necklace around his neck he clutched at one of them, trying to console himself a little. It was possibly the only thing he had left of his mother, the mother he had never known. It helped him to feel closer to her. Haytham resisted the temptation to roll his eyes as Connor drew closer to the centre of the circled crowd in his casual clothing. Apparently his message had not reached the boy, as he had asked it to be, promptly.

Connor shuffled a little as he came to Haytham's side. The crowd stared at him in his red, blue and white checked shirt and faded dark blue jeans. Never mind the old battered shoes he had put on to travel in. He felt out of place and uncomfortable under such scrutiny. As always, his father was dressed crisply, a white shirt and dark navy suit, tanned leather shoes shinned and a darker coloured tie perfectly tied and pushed up to his collar, the top button fastened. Connor sighed but glanced over to his grandfather, who happened, for once, to be in a crisp white shirt and grey suit trousers, the top button undone fashionably and a pair of black shined shoes on his feet. Mentally berating himself, Connor made an effort to straighten up his back and appear less out of place and nervous. Edward caught his eye and grinned mischievously. Evidently it was his grandfather's fault he hadn't been told to dress more appropriate. Connor shot him a glare as he strolled over and ruffled the dark hair he had managed to tame, out of place. Smacking his grandfather's hand aside, Connor stepped away from his grabbing hands and slipped around to the other side of Haytham as he addressed the crowd of big cats that had gathered to see them off. A couple of tiger body guards closed in behind them, protecting their flanks.

"Thank you all for gathering here to see off our young Connor. As you are all aware, he is to undergo the Vicissitudinis rite in order to become a full fledged member of our clan. There is no doubt he will return to you all as a true Panthera, strong, noble and honourable." And with that Haytham turned with a flourish and signalled for the driver of their limousine to start up the engine. The sleek black limousine rumbled to life and Haytham slipped into the back seat, popping his head back out only to signal for the other two to follow him. Edward rolled his eyes but waved to the crowd, muttering about a lack of wait for the applause to finish. Connor was uncomfortably flushed with embarrassment as the crowd chanted his name. A pressure on his back made him jump. Arno grinned down at him, a sleek pair of tight fitting black trousers on with a light coloured blue shirt. His shoes were simple work boots, chunky and good for running in, unlike the shoes Connor's family members had adorned.

Arno shoved him towards the car and flicked the beaded braid in his hair. Connor curled his nose as the bead tapped the side of it. Arno only gave him a lazy smile and strode towards the limousine tugging Connor behind him. Edward gave a bright cheeky smile to some of the lionesses (who only rolled their eyes at him) before joining them in the back of the limousine. He slammed the door closed behind them and Connor shuffled in his seat, peering out of the back window. The body guards entered a few black SUVs behind them and another got in the front of the limousine. The tiger spoke to the driver in a low whisper, in a language Connor could not understand. It was strange. He frowned and cast a glance to his father who tilted his head to the side slightly in order to listen to the conversation. It was being spoken in rapid Russian and Haytham's eyes jotted from side to side as the scenery flashed by. Connor knew he was quietly translating in his head. He paid the conversation no more attention after a few minutes.

Edward nudged Arno with his foot, roughly digging the toe of his shoe into the Frenchman's shin. He shot the poor spy an angry look and tilted his head towards Connor discretely, indicating for Arno to talk to him. Arno coughed a little and shuffled in his seat next to Connor. Slapping on a brilliant smile he turned to Connor and nudged him with his elbow.  
"How are you feeling petit chat?" Arno crossed a leg over his lap and placed his hands on his shin, leaning forward to block the glare he was receiving from Edward. Connor eyed the other males in the car cautiously, noting the awkward tension easily. They were as uncomfortable as him about this, though he had no idea why that was. Connor rolled his shoulders in a shrug and glanced out the window to the left of him, resting his elbow on the arm rest to prop up his head on.  
"I'm nervous. But no one like the process of transforming anyway. So I guess I'm just feeling like anyone else." Connor kept his gaze fixed on the trees passing by through the window and mumbled, uninterested in their petty issues for the moment. He felt Haytham's steely gaze burn into the back of his head, but kept his eyes fixed out of the window before pulling his phone and earphones out of his pocket. He heard the rest of the group sigh as he shoved the ear buds in his ears. Perhaps something a little edgy would help to unnerve them a little more. Clicking on his rock playlist, Connor cranked the volume up a little bit and listened quietly as ACDC blasted in his ears. Heavy metal would've only resulted in his phone being confiscated, and he wasn't sure he could survive the trip without it.

The airport was crowded, and, even though they were flying on their own jet, they still needed to make it to the air field to actually board the plane. They received a plethora of stares as the limousine drove past the front entrance of the airport and drove towards the barricaded lever arch gate around the back of the enormous building. A guard strolled out, took one look at the number plate on the car, and lifted the barrier for them to go through. Apparently his father's reach extended far beyond just the other clans. Connor watched the guard shift uncomfortably as they past him by. He caught sight of Connor's gaze and quickly averted his eyes to his name tag, tugging the small plastic card around, seemingly into a new position. Connor sighed and, uncomfortably, sat back in his chair. Haytham shot him a cool metallic look, and Connor shifted in his seat a little, tugging his ear phones out as they crossed the airfield and halted in front of a large jet, unpainted except the long silver coloured stripe down the side and the general white colour.

As soon as the limousine came to a halt, the rest of the men in the car clambered out. Connor purposely waited for them before exiting, making sure to grab his phone off of the seat beside him, wrapping the earphones around his fingers as he exited. The jet sat idly as the tiger guards grouped together, quietly discussing some details, no doubt, with Haytham by the stairs up to the aircraft. His father nodded sullenly and rotated a finger as he talked about something with them. Connor dodged around him and ascended the stairs up into the aircraft. A body guard immediately broke off from the group and followed him up the stairs, staying a step or two behind him. Connor shivered and began wringing his hands anxiously as he sat down in the aircraft. The guard nodded and moved off into the captain's cabin. Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair and attempted to calm his nerves.

Edward frowned from his seat across from Connor and leaned out into the isle to watch the tiger move into the cabin. Connor raised an eyebrow, looking back over his shoulder in the high backed, cream leather seat. Arno too was craning his neck to get a glimpse and he scowled as the male guard slammed the door to the captain's cabin shut.  
"Why are you both glaring like that? What is it that everyone isn't telling me?" Connor scowled, sitting back in his seat as a air hostess placed a non-alcoholic drink in front of him. Edward burst into a grin and shrugged, while Arno gloomily stared out of the small window.  
"We weren't...well okay lad, we were. But it is really none of your concern why we were. You." He pointed a finger at Connor, "You need to focus on not buggering up the rite process. Its simple enough but it can go wrong sometimes, especially the night you have to spend in the enclosure." Edward leant forwards in his seat, resting his elbows on the table between himself and Connor. He grinned toothily and raised a single greying eyebrow, his blue eyes sparkling strangely. "Well, its not like you can shift in that room, but a few kids have been mauled to death by that tiger-" Haytham, who was strolling down the isle to his seat away from them, shot Edward a murderous glare.

"Do not scare the boy with ridiculous stories father!" Edward laughed and the body guards behind Haytham shot him sidewards glances. Evidently his jibe hadn't been taken well by them.  
"Come on Haytham. You know the stories as well as anyone about some of the animals they have in that room. Some don't even exist any more. They even say that some of them aren't animals at all but ancient shifters." Edward bursts into laughter. Haytham said nothing but flicked his eyes over to Connor before walking off towards his own seat on the aircraft. Connor frowned and turned his attention to a small TV as the aeroplane lurched into action. Clipping his belt on, he peered over at Arno and noticed the troubled look in his eyes as well. This sour mood was strange for all of them, and Connor couldn't help but feel, somehow, it was connected to him and the Vicissitudinis which loomed ahead. Cracking open the can of cola in front of him, he took a sip to try and distract his mind. Somehow he had the churning feeling of dread in his stomach. He passed it off as nerves.

An few hours into the flight, after finally draining his phone battery completely dry, Connor finally looked up and around the plane. His grandfather was snoring from where he was leant on the headrest, his legs propped up on the table. Arno was scribbling on a notepad, a pencil resting above his ear as he sketched with another. Haytham was sat solemnly, alone towards the back of the plane, a cup of tea in hand as he stared out of the window, the body guards near by playing a game of cards amongst themselves. Connor frowned as he heard Arno huff to himself and turned just to see as he violently tore out the page of the notebook. Balling the paper, Arno threw it onto the seat behind him, his eyes flashing with slits as he did so. Despite Connor knowing better, he quietly stood up, and headed towards Haytham at the back of the plane.

Haytham hummed to himself as Connor sat down across from him and shot him a smirk.  
"Did I finally become more entertaining than your phone?" He eyed his cup of tea and took a sip before raising a dark coloured eyebrow. Connor placed his phone on the table between them and shrugged lamely, playing with the wire of his earphones. Haytham sighed shaking his head with a small smile, and reached for the jug by the window. Placing a tall glass in front of Connor, he filled it with water and locked eyes with him. "You're worried aren't you?" Haytham paused to watch Connor's reaction. Connor shifted in his seat uncomfortably, but nodded, not trusting his own voice. Haytham nodded in response and after another mouthful of water, responded as kindly as he could.  
"There is little to be worried about. Your grandfather is just an idiot who likes to make you upset. Although he was right about the stories, that is all they are, stories my boy. Everyone comes out unscathed. Tired and hungry is the worst to happen yet." Haytham smiled and patted Connor's hand, leaning back in his chair. Connor blinked and leant on the arm rest of the leather chair, propping his head up on his fist.  
"But, grandfather said that they have extinct creatures in there-"  
Haytham scoffed and flipped his hand at the notion, "None of which I have seen, nor has your grandfather. Until I see it I refuse to believe it."

They fell into a small, uncomfortable silence after that, and Connor found his eyelids drooping a little. Yawning he scratched his head and peered over at his father.  
"Where is it we are exactly going?" Haytham clicked his tongue in response.  
"Does no one do anything I tell them too." He sighed and rubbed his cheek, "We are flying to Masyaf in Syria. It is an ancient place to our kind, and so, it is where the rites are performed. The Rapere made their home there when our kind first appeared. Although it is their family home it is one of the few places still left that had the kind of power required for the first transformation to occur without the individual being in such excruciating pain." Haytham turned up his nose, "But, it is where the process had been held for centuries, and so it is where it will remain." He then span an ice cube around his glass, watching as it clicked against the sides. Connor nodded as his eyes drooped heavily. Before he knew it, the droning of his father's voice had lulled him into a deep sleep.

Haytham looked up moments later to see his son's head resting on his shoulder as he breathed deeply. He chuckled to himself and stood up, retrieving a blanket from the piles of towels and bedding near the toilet at the back of the aircraft. Unfolding the brown, red and white patchwork blanket, he draped it over Connor and tucked the corners around his body before carefully reclining the chair he was perched in. Returning to his own seat, Haytham retrieved his finance book and clicked his pen as he cracked the book open, peering at the figures before him.

Connor jolted awake as the plane shuddered, landing heavily on the run way. Evidently they had reached their destination. Connor winced as he looked to his left and frowned for a moment as he looked at the body guards side on. Grunting, he managed to pull himself upright, and tugged a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. Haytham snapped his book shut across from him and stood up, heading towards the bathroom. He left the door open but shouted out of the room.  
"Arno! Wake my father up!" Arno huffed haughtily but did as asked, and shoved Edward's head roughly. He was in a dark mood it seemed, usually he wasn't so disrespectful. Edward snorted and coughed, waking himself up his head jarring to the side roughly as he was knocked awake. The lion shifter growled and snapped his teeth together is a stupor until he blinked a couple of times and yawned loudly.  
"Wait? Have we landed? Already?" Edward looked out of the window tiredly and Haytham sighed as he came out of the small bathroom.  
"Yes father we landed not too long ago." He walked towards Connor and sighed muttering under his breath, "Not that you would notice, you sleep like a log anyway." Connor looked out of the window, pushing the blanket off of his legs.

There were vast long patches of grasses and bare shrubbery, but little else around them. The heat was very prominent and it rolled across the tarmac in waves. There was little else to see and Connor pushed himself out of his seat and yawned himself, pushing the blanket off of him before stooping down to pick it up and fold it. Looking at the digital clock in the aircraft showed him it was mid-afternoon. Haytham moved into a small side closest and hummed before pulling out a crisp plastic covered suit. The tailored suit was a light brown with a suit jacket, waist coat, trousers and a pristine white shirt. Haytham held it out to Connor expectantly and pulled free a pair of darker coloured brown leather oxford shoes to go with it. He also tugged out a deep grey coloured tie and swung it around the hanger too.  
"Go and put this on and brush that mop of yours into something that looks presentable." He then thrust the shoes into Connor's hands and pushed him into the small bathroom, hanging the suit before locking the door from the outside with a click. Connor huffed and muttered to himself, but stripped off his checked shirt and began to dress accordingly.

Uncomfortable in the suit, Connor shuffled out of the bathroom, tugging at his collar. He was unused to such restrictive clothing and it was very apparent to the rest of them in the room. Haytham tutted and moved in, straightening the tie, tugging at his collar and pulling his waistcoat down. Edward sighed from the front of the plane.  
"Haytham it is thirty degrees Celsius outside and you want the lad in a waistcoat, never mind the suit!" He then got up and tugged at Connor from the right, "The lad'll dehydrate in this thing!" Haytham snorted and undid Connor's top button. Edward levelled a condescending look at his son but sighed and flapped his hand as a sign he had given up. He then strolled down to the end of the plane and peaked out of the window, waiting for the tiger shifters on the plane to open the airlock. Haytham turned his nose in the air.  
"There will be air conditioning wherever we go. He'll be fine."

That had been a major understatement. The heat was almost unbearable in the suit Connor had been shoved into. For some reason the paparazzi had turned up at the small airport and Connor had been forced to smile and look happy despite the blistering heat bearing down on him. Somehow his family had some connections over here in Syria. Connor couldn't even begin to think what sort of connections, but apparently it was something large, ranging from medical equipment to more sinister underground activities, though the public had no idea about those. After that there was a car journey to Masyaf, in a car with no actual working air conditioning. Connor sat chugging water for a good forty minutes in the sweltering car. Then, there was the a glimmer of hope as the castle of Masyaf rose in the distance. The driver however, refused to go any further than the road up to the ancient castle. According to Arno, who had a little knowledge of Arabic, he had said something about demons and monsters resting in the castle. Haytham had spoken to the driver and sighed as he signalled for them all to clamber out. The tiger body guards had pulled up some twenty minutes later in a large SUV, all their luggage in the back. Connor was sure he had sweated through ever layer of clothing he had on and had stripped off his waistcoat and suit jacket to hopefully cool down. The only other who seemed to be struggling with the heat was Arno. Finally, they managed to squeeze into one of the cars with the bodyguards and made it through the gates of the castle some hours later than they should have.

Connor outwardly sighed when they made it into the main doors of the castle. The stone made the air cool and the shade was a welcome relief from the heat outdoors. They were met at the doors by two men. Both were about the same height but gave off very different auras. The one on the left wore a crooked smirk, a scar across the left of his lips. His hair was a rich dark brown, pulled back at the back of his neck with a velvet red ribbon and his dark chocolate coloured eyes twinkled with a small amount of mischief. He was suited in a dark red suit to match the ribbon in his hair, a black shirt underneath unbuttoned to reveal the top part of his toned chest and a leather twined necklace with metal beads looped in a regular pattern. A shiny pair of black shoes were on his feet. His counter part was dressed simply in a pair of tight slim cut black trousers and a white shirt, the top button undone. A thick brown belt was around his waist and two holsters were strapped over his chest, both holding sleek black glock handguns. Strapped to the holsters was also two extra magazines of ammunition and a small sheath at his hip undoubtedly held a knife. The man eyed them coldly, a finger twitching slightly as he narrowed his honey coloured eyes at them all, his lips downturned, twisting a similar scar, also on the left of his lips, downwards. His hair was also brown, thought it was lighter than his companion's, and fairly close cropped to his head though a few pieces still fell over his forehead. He raised a single eyebrow as he caught sight of Connor, as though he knew something no one else did.

Haytham was quick to paste on a seemingly good mannered smile, offering his hand to each of the two men in turn in a show of manners.  
"Ezio, Altair, it had been a while. The last time I saw you both you were both undergoing the rite. Are you both well?" Haytham took a step back folded his hands behind his back. Ezio, the man to the left, smirked even wider and tossed his head, flicking his hair behind him.  
"It has been a long time Panthera. Though undoubtedly you have become no less of a bore si?" Altair was quick to shoot Ezio a frightening glare, folding his arms across his equally as toned chest. He then turned back to the group and nodded his head towards Edward in respect first, and then turned back to Haytham.  
"It is good to see you again Haytham. It has been a long time since we have seen you, and a long time since your family has been here in Masyaf."

Altair scanned the faces one by one as Ezio cocked his hip, pushing his left hand into his trouser pocket.  
"We have had some rooms prepared for you gatti." He clicked his fingers and a group of long faced helpers materialised from seemingly nowhere, taking their bags in hand, "Please, follow them to your rooms. Hopefully you find them to your...taste shall we say." Altair scowled once more but shook his head before spinning around and striding away, up the stairs and down one of the large open balconies over looking the main entrance way. The help then began moving towards the left hand stairs and the group followed. Connor frowned as he climbed the stairs and turned back around to see the Italian no where in sight.

All of them had been given their own rooms here, as was customary to the family of the one to partake in the ritual. The other families would only show up for the process tomorrow and then a few would stay for the celebrations before the ancient castle was left to the Rapere once more. Connor was shown to a large solid dark wood door and the little long faced maid bowed a little as she opened the door to the room and placed his suitcase inside before scuttling away down the shadowed corridor. He shrugged but stepped into the room and looked around with a small look of confusion. The room had been dusted recently but old tattered murals hung on the wall, moth eaten and some almost thread bare in places. The tapestries depicted a triangular symbol in the middle with various animals jumping and flying from it, another had animals staring up into the sky and the final one had them tearing at each other, a wolf and a cat were bleeding and fighting in the middle of the image. Connor shivered as he looked at the images and turned away to look at the rest of the room.

The rest of the room was just as dated, but had a few pieces of modern day furniture. The room had been untouched for a good number of years. Connor draped his suit jacket and waist coat over the back of a dark brown leather, worn chair by a small hearth and scratched at the back of his neck as he glanced over to the plush looking, if not dated, bed. He sighed and tugged his suitcase over to the large wardrobe in the corner of the room. The scent of mothballs was very prominent as he opened the doors. Still, he couldn't allow his father to see him in a shirt with even the tiniest wrinkle in it, so he grudgingly hung all of his clothes up in the wardrobe and placed a few vests and jogging bottoms onto a small shelf at the top before tucking his suitcase inside the wardrobe and closing the double doors.

Connor was shocked by the large glass doors, that lead onto the balcony, flying open. A dry hot breeze blew into the room and Connor rushed over to the doors, shutting them, and placing the hook latch in place. A humming caught him off guard once more and he span around to see Ezio perched on the back of the leather arm chair. The shifter had his feet on the top of the back of the chair as he crouched on top, his head cocked to one side as he smirked at Connor. A couple of feathers clung to his hair and he was dressed in the bathrobe the help had left hung on the back of Connor's door. Evidently he had shifted back after flying in through the doors that lead onto Connor's balcony. Ezio's toes curled as though they were talons, holding him effortless on the back of the chair. Connor was confused how he was staying perfectly balanced, surely the chair should have over balanced by now with Ezio's weight on the back. The Rapere member grinned at him with his dark eyes closed and dropped off the back of the chair before opening them again.

"Well, look at you little kitten. All grown up and ready to inherit your daddy's fortune." Ezio lazily paced around Connor, as though he was ready to jump at him any second. Connor tensed, his feet naturally falling apart and his fists clenching.  
"You can't tell me you didn't inherit your father's fortune. How else would you be able to afford the suit you were wearing earlier?" He sneered at Ezio. The Italian shrugged but laughed light-heartedly and shrugged before pulling away and picking the dark coloured feathers out of his hair.  
"I like you mio amico. Your different from the rest of those unsociable snobs. Altair is such a bore. You're a breath of fresh air little gatto." Ezio lazily strolled over to the leather chair once more and jumped into the seat, throwing his legs over the arm as he fiddled with a trinket off of the table. Connor let out a small sigh of relief but frowned as he made his way over to Ezio warily.  
"So what is it you want exactly?" The bird of prey's dark eyes flashed with mischief and he craned his neck up to look at Connor.  
"I wanted to see if you would like to go out on a little trip with me? I promise I'll have you back for bed time." He smirked arrogantly and Connor snorted.  
"And why would I want to go anywhere with you? I don't even know you."  
Ezio pouted at his words, "Come on. It'll be fun. I'll give you a little tour of the place and a sample of the local produce this little dried up patch of land has to offer mio amico." He winked conspiratorially and Connor frowned, innocently confused by what Ezio was implying.

"Wait you want to show me around?" Connor crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow.  
"In a sense I suppose. I guarantee that you'll enjoy it either way. Plus it'll make a bit more of a man out of you too kitten." Ezio stood up and stretched his back out before smiling happily, "It'll be nice to have an excuse to get out of this depressing castle for once. I'll come back and get you in a moment. Just let me find my clothes." He moved over to the door before looking back at Connor over his shoulder, "You might want to put a pair of nice jeans on and take that tie and those shoes off too. Its not too a fancy place." Connor nodded and watched him leave before going to do as Ezio had asked of him.

An hour or so later they were speeding down the dusty roads towards the city of Masyaf. The castle loomed over them on the hill and Connor frowned as Ezio navigated his way around the main roads towards a more lavish section of the city. The buildings were freshly painted and crisp golden lettering was over a wooden door. Connor had no clue what it read as, but none the less, he climbed out of the car as Ezio did and followed the Italian to the door. Ezio pushed his designer sunglasses up onto his head and grinned at the bouncer at the door. The man nodded and let them straight through the door. Connor grew increasingly confused as he heard the thump of music as the descended the stairs into a huge basement complex. There was a wide archway at the end of the stairs covered by silky material. Ezio ducked under the silk and held it open for Connor.

Connor flushed bright red as he peered about the room. The music was a mix of techno and dance music and girls around the room swung their hips to the music. His jaw dropped and he gritted his teeth.  
"You brought me to a strip club?!" He hissed at Ezio. Ezio shrugged nonchalantly and grinned winking at one of the waitresses that strolled past him, her top cut dangerously low. Connor clutched his face in his hands. Why did he go along with this in the first place? He questioned his idiocy as Ezio dragged him over to a booth in the back of the establishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a little mature quickly...woops. I don't intend to make anything too mature happen don't worry all you little ones! There will be nothing of the smutty nature involved. This may have gotten a little off of the rails, but you know what, I don't even care. This means you all have to wait until I reveal what is going to happen and I do so love torturing you all with suspense and silly little scenes like these. Also, my thirst is real for some assassins in crisp clean suits. I sometimes wish I could draw. Anyway. i fed you all a little more information and teasers here I think this chapter. The rite will hopefully get underway next chapter. Until then I hope this can satisfy your thirst for Shifter AU tidbits.
> 
> Thank you to all those who have been sending me their ideas and thoughts. hopefully it wont be too long until you're all put out of your misery! Thank you all again for reading and supporting me through this! I hope it was enjoyable at least?  
> Feel free to point out any errors I may have made.  
> Thank you all once more from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> Spookworm.
> 
> P.S This chapter is ridiculously long for me, sorry if it seems to ramble!


	4. Chapter 4

Despite wriggling to escape Ezio's vice grip on his shoulder's Connor was still pushed down into a seat by the Italian, the gaudy red, over stuffed leather making him roll his eyes, still the inevitable colour of a tomato. Uncomfortable with the gawking eyes of everyone in the establishment, and he swore he saw a girl dressed as an angel lick her lips looking his way, Connor couldn't help but feel like a piece of meat having been thrown into a lion pen. Ezio grinned as he seated himself close to Connor's side, peering at the flushed cheeks as he pulled the sunglasses from his head, placing on the table to rearrange the few rebellious strands that had fallen out of place from the neat pony tail, tied at the back of his neck.   
“Come on Connor, lighten up. Its only some girls.” The grin Ezio flashed was positively a leer, his dark eyes following the swaying of hips as a devil serving girl walked past. The fact the place was full of girls, scantily dressed girls, was the issue Connor was having trouble processing. His innocent mind couldn't help but feel it was indecent to see women revealing so much, and the gentlemanly values his father had drilled into his head from a young age told him that he had to leave immediately. Ezio, however, wouldn't let him do that. 

Connor kept his eyes fixed on the table for a moment before he glared at Ezio, his cheeks not making it seem as intimidating as it possibly could have been.  
“I don't want to be here, Ezio. Can I just leave?” Connor rotated his wrist absently, indicating to his surroundings of the gloomy hole of sin surrounding him. The mocking smile that curled on Ezio's lips only made Connor growl, and secretly want to smash the Italian's pretty face into the table.   
“Stop being such a party pooper and let go my friend. We wont be here too long anyway.” The bird shifter shrugged, the designer jumper he had stylishly wrapped around his shoulders slipping down slightly over his black short sleeved shirt. Ezio rested his ankle on top of one knee and placed his arms over the back of the large bench seat arrogantly, puffing his chest out like the proud bird he transformed into. Another girl giggled lightly behind her hand as Ezio winked at her, smiling radiantly as she coyly strode towards another customer, of which there were numerous. Connor rolled his eyes but nudged Ezio as a waiting girl walked over, her large heels clicking against the hard tiled floor. 

Ezio leant over to hear her speak over the fairly loud electronic music blaring out through the speakers, close to Connor's shoulder. She pursed her lips, blowing a bubble out of her chewing gum, the bubble bursting with a snap, only for her to pull it back into her mouth.   
“What do you two boys want?” She pulled a small notebook out of the pocket of her insanely short maid dress. Evidently the fact they were not from around the local area stuck out like a sore thumb, as she addressed them in English. Or maybe it was the fact that Ezio was undoubtedly a regular customer here, either way, Connor was glad he wouldn't have to attempt to tell her what drink he wanted with hand actions. Before he could open his mouth, however, Ezio pushed his shoulder into the back of the bench.   
“We'll have two beers bellissima ragazza.” A wink accompanied it and Connor scowled, turning to her to change his order, but she already was, clicking her tongue at Ezio.  
“Nice try pretty boy, it pretty obvious he's underage. Do you ever get bored of tormenting people Ezio?” She flashed a sardonic smile at the Italian, jutting her hip out cockily, “Never mind that, if he is so much as in a metre radius of any alcohol you'll be finding yourself banned.” With that she clicked her pen and walked away back towards the bar. 

Ezio huffed, leaning his head back on his folded arms, behind his head.   
“Cristina is a fiesty one.” Ezio chuckled to himself smiling at Connor, “Still want to go home?” Connor nodded scowling still at the Italian for dragging him into this situation.  
“Of course. This...place, is making me uncomfortable.” Connor was sat twiddling his thumbs trying to listen to the music to distract him from the mass of women's bodies, their skin revealed to an inappropriate level. Ezio snorted and was about to make a remark, until their drinks were, well, Ezio's was slammed onto the table, and Connor's placed in front of him. Lemonade. If he didn't feel like a kid before, he sure did now. Ezio took a few large mouthfuls of his drink before laughing at Connor's drink.  
“Cristina sure was serious about you not having a drop of alcohol. Fizzy enough for you mio amico?” Ezio burst into peels of laughter and Connor scowled, turning to his drink and taking a sip to stop him from breaking the man's nose. 

The sound of a scuffle by the door caught Connor's attention, the noise just audible above the electronic beat thumping in his ears. Apparently Ezio hadn't heard the noise, and was unfazed, still sat casually, his arms over the back of the seat. The silk covering the entrance to the main area rippled with a breeze before a body burst through the material, growling and grappling with the bouncer who had been assigned to the door. Connor scowled as he watched the man enter a very familiar stance before whipping around the slow muscled bouncer, striking him on the side of the head as he went before sending a fist crashing into the side of the bouncer's face. A follow up uppercut sent the meat-head bouncer spiralling into the bar, sending glasses flying, the glass smashing against the tiles. A few of the girls let out high pitched wails of fright and Connor caught sight of familiar brown hair tied back messily at the back of the man's neck. The bouncer pushed himself back up and swung clumsily. The fist was caught and another punch to the face dazed the bouncer as the man smashed his nose into the bar before cracking him once more around the face, catching him on the cheek bone. Now, Connor was sure it was Arno as he growled again before pulling the bouncer's face from the bar, bloodied and bruised, and pushed it down as his knee came up, crashing into the man's forehead. With that final blow, the guard was finally still, laid out, his nose and eye bleeding, on the floor, out for the count.

Arno, having calmed himself down a little, took a deep breath in, his eyes still large, glowing with the leopard just under the surface. He span around, rubbing his sore knuckles through the black leather gloves he had on. The Frenchman had changed too, having donned a blue, hard fabric coat, a hood attached, with golden buttons. A white shirt and red tie brought the outfit together. Arno tutted, rubbing at the dark red stain on his knee before smiling at the rest of the patrons, his gold and green eyes, glowing almost, with the low light.   
“Now do any of you fine gentlemen, and ladies, know where-” Connor cut off his silly tirade by standing up. Arno closed his eyes with a smile, walking over to the table he was by, and that Ezio was still sat at. Arno visibly tensed when he caught sight of the bird shifter lounged on the seat. A sarcastic smile curled Arno's lips upwards as he peered around Connor at the Italian. “Its nice to see that you enjoy causing issues for everyone still, Ezio.”

The Italian's eyes flashed open at this, chocolate swirling with a mix of agitation and anger. He too returned the smile with one of his own and flipped a hand lazily, closing one eye.  
“Not as much as you enjoy pinning after a dead girl it seems.” Ezio rolled his head to the side, “Or perhaps crying over the death of your father.” Connor had never seen Arno look more enraged than he did in that moment, and the native couldn't move fast enough to stop Arno from vaulting the table and grappling Ezio around the throat. Ezio let out a high pitched humming noise as Arno jumped at him, before whipping his feet up and sending the Frenchman flying back over the tabletop with a kick to the chest. Arno crashed into the seat opposite with a winded noise but stood up as Ezio moved out into open space. Ezio grinned as Arno stood up, bracing himself as Arno leapt over the table again and slammed into him, sending the two of them crashing to the ground. They grappled for a moment until Ezio slid something from around his ankle. Arno halted when the cold steel was pressed against his neck, glaring darkly at the Italian beneath him. Arno pushed himself off of the bird shifter and growled, his eyes still enlarged, the pupils large with adrenaline.

Ezio twirled the knife over the back of his hand, a cold expression taking over as he span into action, sending the blade swiping across Arno's face. The shocked look on Arno's face meant he hadn't seen the blow coming and he took a few steps back after the blade slashed across his face, clutching his nose. Blood seeped from a long gash across his nose, and part way across the top of his right cheek. Rivulets of blood dripped down his face and Arno growled like an animal, his eyes wide with fury as he surged across the tiles and sent a kick flying towards the Italian's chest, Ezio dodged only to have his wrists gripped as Arno twisted the knife, grappling for it with Ezio clumsily. Ezio gritted his teeth, wriggling to wrench the knife back towards him as Arno forced it further out of his grasp. Arno grunted and gave a final tug, smacking Ezio's wrist once more to send the knife scattering across the floor, out of reach of them both. Connor was still shocked at their reaction to one another, never before having seen Arno so far beyond his own sense of self. The two then began to fist fight, exchanging fast paced blows that Connor knew were emotionally driven.

The sound of the silk tearing caught Connor's attention. His dark eyes flipped over to the silk covering the entrance to the establishment. There, stood in front of the pink coloured, tattered material, was a face he had never seen before. Black hair , tightly pulled back in a mid pony tail, dark eyes almost like coal in the low light. A black leather coat, red waist coat and gold trims told Connor little of who he was. It wasn't until he drew out a gun that he panicked. Trying to get between the two fighting, Connor was drawn back by a cold strong hand on his shoulder. The stranger only offered a quirk of his lips, the scar over his eye creasing slightly, before he intercepted the two fighting. One hand gripped Ezio's fist twisting harshly until he grunted in pain, before Ezio had his legs swept out from under him. Turning then, the black draped assailant ducked under a swing before shoving Arno with his shoulder, dropping and watching as Arno huffed. His hand whipped out and caught the Frenchman by his tie drawing him forward as he smacked his other fist into Arno's injured cheek. The dark haired man grumbled to himself drawing back a little but keeping between the two of them as they recovered from their quick beatings.

“Now are you lads both done?” The Irish accent was very prominent and Connor was still confused as to who this leather clad man was. The gun in his hand glinted dangerously, and Connor assessed how he would be able to grab it away should he threaten them with it. Arno groaned from his place on the tiles, holding his cheek and nose, the cut already starting to heal a little.  
“Shay.” He huffed, still winded, “Was that really necessary mon ami?” Arno smacked his palms onto the tiles, raising his head to peer at Ezio, who was also dragging himself off of the floor, with a glare. Shay, the dark haired newcomer, rolled his shoulders in an uncaring shrug.  
“Do you really think you would've stopped had I asked?” He offered his hand for Arno to grip. Arno groaned as he was dragged up off of the floor and stood, clutching his face and abdomen in pain. The huffing was signal enough that both of them wouldn't have stopped had Shay asked nicely or shouted. Ezio smacked the hand that was offered to him with almost a hissing noise, his back high like an angry cat. Had be been shifted his wings would have been high and his feathers ruffled in anger. 

Connor moved over to Ezio and pulled him up with a bit of effort. The Italian had struggled, his ankle having had been jarred in an unnatural position when he was floored. Ezio scowled at the brigade that had come and ended his fun early.  
“I'm assuming that Haytham sent you both to recover his pride and joy, si?” Ezio pushed himself upright, his ankle still sore but quickly recovering thanks to their race's healing factor. Give it a few hours it would be like he had never injured it. Arno nodded with Shay.  
“Aye, he did. You know full well that taking the one to take part in the ritual, out of the castle, is forbidden, so why did you do it?” Connor saw Shay's grip on the gun tighten, and he scowled at him. The Irishman met his eyes, uncaring, and focused back on Ezio.  
“I thought it would be funny to see you all come scrambling to get him.” Ezio shrugged with a smirk. Shay hummed lowly and shrugged.  
“Either way, we've been told to bring you both back to Masyaf, one way or another.” Shay watched coolly as Connor moved towards the door, unspeaking, but hardened his gaze as Ezio huffed, moving back over to the seats.  
“I'm not the one undergoing the process. Therefore, signore, I can do whatever I please.” 

Shay moved purposefully over the tiles, his coat flaring as he grabbed Ezio by the back of his shirt pressing the gun to his back as he whirled him around towards the door.   
“I was told to bring you both back, so that is what I'm going to do.” Shay pushed the barrel of the gun further into Ezio's spine, watching as the Italian squirmed against the metal, slightly unnerved. “And, lad, if you don't want to come, I can always put a bullet in you and drag you back. One bullet through your hip should put you in bed for a few days as your boy heals but it'll mean I can drag you back like I was told, and that you wont resist.” Shay shrugged speaking in Ezio's ear dangerously, “Its your choice lad.”. Ezio growled at the threat but moved forwards towards the exit, shoving the silk aside in one last rebellious act. Shay followed suit patting Arno on the shoulder as he passed by. Connor coughed a little.  
“So my father sent you after me?” Arno nodded pulling out a small handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face.  
“Oui. He knew the consequences of you leaving, and sent me and Shay to retrieve you before someone of importance saw you out of the castle. Now, I see it was Ezio making trouble yet again.” Arno pushed Connor out by wrapping his arm around the native's shoulder, “Think of it this way. You get to see you're father scream at someone that isn't you for a change.” Connor shook his head with a small amused smile, following Shay out of the underground establishment.

It was safe to say the patrons and employees were more than shocked by the happenings. Shay had also gone back to leave a check for the trouble, courtesy of Haytham, before they sped back towards the castle of Masyaf.

Arno's prediction of Connor not being on the receiving end of his father's wroth was completely wrong. As soon as the small party entered through the castle doors there was the sound of clicking shoes as his father, grandfather and Altair came down the stairs. Haytham sighed with relief before scowling as the anger took over him. Connor felt the urge to roll his eyes at his dad, but resisted the compulsion and stood strong, trying to quell the attitude which would only cause him to be further scolded for an insufferable amount of time. Edward grinned cheekily behind his dad and mouthed something before making a lewd gesture. Connor flushed bright red and shook his head. Haytham whipped around with a scowl to his own father and smacked the back of his hand against his shoulder in reprimand. 

Altair's face was dark with anger as Ezio walked through the door. He cracked his finger loudly to try and suppress his anger.  
“Ezio. You are very lucky that we have guests. What were you thinking? Are you trying to ruin us?! This family doesn't need anymore of your idiotic stunts! This is exactly why you were not chose to be head.” The last part was growled and Altair grabbed the Italian's arm before dragging him away up the stairs still gruffly shouting at him until the door slamming cut their heated exchange off.

Haytham shook his head, turning his attention back to his son and the two men that had brought him back. He frowned, catching sight of the long cut across Arno's nose.  
“How on earth did you get that? Connor-” Haytham's tone darkened considerably until Arno cut in over the top of him to defend the poor boy.  
“Ezio drew a knife on me. I got caught with it. It will be fine soon enough sir do not worry.” The smile sealed the deal and Haytham clenched his fists.

“I swear these idiotic bird brains. I would be in my right mind to pluck them.” He sighed, gripping his forehead, rubbing at it in exasperation before turning his attention back to Connor. “I know that Ezio was the one that dragged you out of the castle, and that you didn't know you were meant to remain here but how many times, Connor, have I told you to be more careful?” Haytham's steel coloured eyes flashed dangerously. “Did you think it was going to be a good idea to go out with a man you hardly know and that you've met only once?! You could have gotten yourself killed, Connor! Not to mention you put this family's reputation on the line, and your own, by running away like that!” Haytham was positively seething now as he pointed his finger at Connor. “You could have destroyed all chances you had at being who you were meant to be, never mind inheriting the leadership of this family! You couldn't have been more stupid!” He finally stopped shouting.

Connor felt his hackles rising in retaliation. Before he could control himself he was arguing back.  
“Well I am sorry, father,” the word was spat at Haytham sassily, “that I couldn't be the perfect son you want! Its also not my fault I had no clue not to leave the castle! If you had told me everything instead of keeping me in the dark, as always, then maybe I could have made a more informed decision! I never find out anything through you! You lie and you ignore me! So, I'm sorry. I am sorry I couldn't be the proper prim son that you want.” And with that remark he shoved past Shay roughly before stomping off back to his room, fists clenched tightly, willing him to just punch something. 

After striding down a corridor away from his father and the three other pairs of watching eyes, Connor turned and slumped against the wall, his back pressed hard into the cold stone as he tried to control the surging anger boiling his blood. Growling to himself he turned to face the stone and took a deep breath in before smashing his right fist into the wall. Connor grunted in pain as the skin over his knuckles split with the contact, blood welling over the small abrasions and cuts. They started to heal almost instantly and Connor drew in a breath, looking at the place he had punched. A small crack had formed in the small stone and blood was embedded in the surface, but no major damage had been done. Flexing his fingers, Connor watched as the skin started to scab and heal over. Having let his anger out, he headed back to his room to await the next thing he would have to do for his ability to shift.

It was a few hours later when Haytham whisked into his room, scaring Connor from his seat, reading in the last of the day's sun. His father was quick to walk over to him, his hands intertwined behind his back, as always, as he strode with purpose. When faced with Connor's scowling face however, Haytham huffed and his face softened slightly.  
“Son, I...” Haytham sighed lightly moving to sit on the small stool across from Connor, leaning forwards with his elbows rested on his knees, his hands linked his each other, “I apologise for not informing you more of my intentions, and the things that are going on around you. Some things you must be left in the dark about, but others, like the things that are going to happen soon, those you must know.” He stands up at this and begins to pace, using his hands to demonstrate invisible points. “As you know the ceremony will take place tomorrow afternoon in the underground sept of this castle, though there are rituals which you must go through first. The night of beasts, for example, will occur tonight, in a few hours to be exact, in which, you must spend the night in the keep with the various forms our kind can take to perhaps see if you feel a connection with any of them.” Haytham rotated his wrist flippantly, “Though the idiotic rumours about extinct and mythical creatures appearing to people are most likely poppycock.” The after thought was an unsettling one, and Connor was reminded of his grandfather's rantings earlier in the day.

Connor shifted in his chair, placing his book on the small table next to him, tucking a choppy piece of hair behind his ear as it settled too far over his cheek.  
“This is happening tonight? And you thought a few hours before was a good time to tell me?” Connor scowled at his dad, his lips slightly raised on one side in a small sneer. Haytham looked a his face and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes with a cool look.  
“If you hadn't gone gallivanting off then we could have had this conversation when you had settled in, hours and hours ago. It is your own fault.” Haytham flipped his hand once more, and Connor sneered fully, feeling the need to retaliate growing within him. Before he got to open his mouth to voice a snarky reply, Haytham continued, “Anyway. It matters not now- you now know. The ceremony will require you to wear a specific outfit. A lot of stuffy fur I'm afraid. I already had it tailored for you before we flew. Someone if fetching it now for you. I would also suggest you bathe before getting dressed. The heat will not help you in this regalia, but it is required to be worn no matter the circumstance.” 

Connor pondered whether or not Haytham had prepared this speech, or lecture, in advance as he continued, ranting about the immense heat, even at night. Connor listened to the rest in a small haze until the door opened and a long featured woman scuttled in, the outfit draped over her arm. The bird featured maid hung it on the door of the wardrobe before leaving, letting her male counterpart enter to help Connor dress in the strange furs. Haytham unzipped the bag covering the outfit to show him the attachment of pelts, crossing in interlocking patterns. The chest consisted of a few skins, woven together where they ended, and a shoulder shawl of part of a wolf fur was pinned together, the fur of its legs fastened by a small brass chain to make the shoulder piece. Deer and bear fur made up the bottom half, again with interwoven furs. The whole thing was ugly, and Connor cringed a little at the sight of it. His father too, looked unimpressed.  
“Well, remember, its only for a night, and this sort of outfit is required.”  
Connor cringed at the thought of being stuck in the mass of furs, but sighed moving over to the small bathroom to prepare himself to the night of heated torture, sweating in the furry death trap he was going to have to wear. 

After a good hour of being stuffed into the outfit and having his hair tugged out of its position, half tied back, so all the long pieces of his hair fanned around his face annoyingly. Apparently along with wearing a complete fur outfit, he couldn't have his hair tied back. This meant, as Connor was lead to the beast keep under the main floor of the castle of Masyaf, he was blowing long strands of hair out of his face constantly as they whipped around and hit him in the eyes and poked at his cheek and neck irritatingly. Haytham gave a small click of his tongue when he caught Connor itching to pull the hair back. His grandfather and father had been allowed to accompany him down with the hooded monk. They hadn't said a word and had sent him glares when he so much as sniffed. It was a sacred place, and so was to be treated with the up most respect. The robed monk moved without so much of a noise, but the faint scrape of some form of footwear indicated he wasn't actually floating.

They reached the door to the sanctuary of beasts down a dark, long corridor. The monk then moved aside to allow them to converse briefly before Connor was locked in for the night. Connor wrung his hands nervously in front of the steel door, trying to hold them still as his nerves got the better of him. A firm grip on his shoulder made him make eye contact with Haytham, his grandfather grinning over his father's shoulders. Haytham squeezed it reassuringly.  
“There is nothing to worry out. If anything remotely bad was to happen, it would be that the creatures do not appear. Otherwise they will merely come close and investigate. Nothing more than that.” Haytham nodded with a small smile as Edward cut in to voice his thoughts too.  
“Even if they do come too close lad, most ov' 'em are soft as brushes, and you could just bop 'em on the nose and they'll scatter.” He grins toothily and goes to ruffle Connor's hair, only to stop as he was glared at by Haytham. Edward withdrew his hand but gave Connor a thumbs up as the monk shuffled back into view ad opened the door.

A faint breeze blew, whirling Connor's hair about his face as the door creaked open, the metal scraping along the stone floor. The wind whistled down the hall and Connor swallowed a lump in his throat, his nerves suddenly all the more prominent. There was no indication of life, no others sounds than the wind. The monk twisted his head, the hood still drooping low to cover his face, and spread a hand towards the stairs darkened room, indicating Connor should go inside. Haytham pressed his hand against the small of Connor's back, and gave him a delicate push, inching him closer to the door. The native boy closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, before plunging into the deep end, and taking the few steps into the room. The darkness was consuming, and Connor peered over his shoulder to catch the last glimpse of light, the image of his father smiling softly with his grandfather disappearing as the door was swung shut. It closed with a bang, and Connor could hear the blood rushing in his ears, the sound of his own breathing breaking the fragile silence. Holding his breath, he moved further into the darkness, his vision slowly adjusting with each step.

The silence was unchanged as his eyes finally made sense of the darkness, the wind still whispering against the walls. Connor inhaled sharply as he felt his eyes begin to twitch, raising his hands to touch around the sockets. A sharp pain ran through his temples, and he stopped walking for a moment, blinking rapidly as the twitches ran through his muscles. He couldn't stop them and rubbed his eyes as the pain started again, trying to calm them. Another shock caused him to grunt and close his eyes, the lids still twitching slightly. A few moments passed, and so did the pain, and Connor reopened his eyes, the room suddenly dim but easy to see. Connor touched his cheek bone with a hand, but moved forwards once again, careful to avoid the rocks lying around, for fear of making a noise. As he progressed further, he noticed a light beaming down from a grate. The moonlight shone from a large circular mirror, illuminating the four walls of the room where large tunnels were carved out of the walls. Ivy clung to the metal covering of the grate and cascaded down in long tendrils, into the room, shaking slightly in the small breeze. Connor moved over to the mirror and frowned, running his hand over the dirty surface to remove the layer of grime. 

The mirror reflected the light better, harsher beams of light erupting around the room, shining into the tunnels, illuminating only a few metres into the dark corridors. With no apparent appearance of beastly vicious animals, Connor let out a sigh and looked around before shakily seating himself by the mirror. Looking at his hand, he noticed the grey layer of dirt covering the entirety of his palm and wiped it on the fur of his outfit, glancing around at the bare dirty stone walls. That was, until the scraping of feet caught his attention. Connor took a gasping breath, before looking off to the left, to the entrance of the roughly dug passage. The gleam of cat eyes caught him off guard, and Connor scrambled to his feet as the big cat growled, slinking forwards into the light. The sleek black fur of its coat rippled over lean muscles, power packed and ready to bolt off or fight in an instance. The panther snarled, its lips raised high to reveal large teeth and a powerful jaw, threateningly. It crouched low as Connor scuttled backwards, and flicked its long tail as it sized him up. Its green eyes flicked to his own, and they both stared, Connor's eyes wide in fright. Quickly, the cat stopped growling and sniffed, padding over languidly as Connor pressed himself further against the stone. The panther growled again and spat, hissing as it came within a few metres. It crouched low again and Connor cursed the whole damn ritual, his throat dry as he froze with fear. 

A grumbled response to the panther made him dare to look to his right, as another creature padded out of the tunnel. The muzzle of a wolf was revealed in the light, teeth bared, a pink tongue snapping at the front teeth menacingly. The wolf walked into the dim light, its eyes so brown they were almost black, thick fur a mottled grey colour, brown and silver flicks covering its shoulders. This wolf was astounding compared to the grey wolves Connor had seen. It's entire body was pushing on six foot long, an incredible size, though it's head reached just to Connor's waist. It was undeniably a grey wolf, though its size indicated otherwise. Connor held his breath as the panther turned to the new comer and growled, flicking its tail as a warning, it's claws retracting and extending to claw the stone with a harsh noise. The wolf grumbled lowly, snarling in return, it too crouching low in preparation to fight. Connor gasped for air quietly, but pushed off of the wall, his hand twitching in a wish to calm the conflict between the two creatures. He gripped his own hand and gritted his teeth as the two animals turned their attention towards him, blinking, but not making any sort of move to maul him. They merely looked, calmly, as his chest heaved to catch his breath, and return oxygen to his bloodstream.

The two predators sniffed then, before both approaching slowly, their faces and eyes sincere and calm as they got closer to the native boy. The wolf was first to his side, and Connor kept his breathing steady, steeling his nerves as he reached out a shaky hand to the wolf's head. The canine stood still and pushed its head towards his hand, rubbing its coarse thick fur against Connor's palm. It then pressed its cold nose against his wrist and snorted as the panther approached it other hand. It eyed the hand inquisitively and hummed before rubbing against Connor's leg and walking back towards the centre of the room. The wolf pushed its head against his leg, nudging him towards the centre of the room, before it too padded off towards the centre of the room, its tail brushing against the dusty stones of the floor. Connor watched them both for a moment before joining them and seating himself by the mirror again. The two creatures placed themselves down by his sides. Tentatively, he ran a hand over each of their furs, marvelling in the different texture of each with a strange fascination. He never thought he'd get this close to either off these animals, yet the overwhelming feeling of admiration of these powerful creatures took over. Connor cracked a small smile as he pushed his fingers further into their separate furs and felt himself chuckling a little, nervously happy as he ran his hands across the creatures' backs.

Still smiling, Connor looked over at the mirror and squinted at his slightly blurry reflection. Ceasing his petting of the carnivores by him, he moved forwards onto his knees and looked into the mirror. Wide blown golden eyes stared back at him, framed by his mess of hair. Connor gaped at his own reflection, his right hand touching his lower lid in disbelief. The irises nearly glowed in the dim light and he blinked, rubbing at his eyes to see if he was seeing things. When he looked back into the reflective glass to see the same eyes looking back at him, Connor began to question things. Just why were his eyes like this? Experimentally, he took a few deep breaths and focused on the distant wall, he was shocked to be able to make out the cracks in the stone. Puzzled, the young shifter sat back onto his backside, his fingers still frozen touching his cheeks in disbelief. Shaking his head, Connor muttered to himself, moving back to press his hands into the animals' furs. They anchored him in a way, in this reality. 

After a while in the gloomy room, Connor felt his eyelids begin to droop. Various other creatures had gathered around the sides of the room, leaving him with the wolf and the panther in the centre of the room by the mirror. A yawn escaped his mouth, yet he fought the tiredness, still wary of the creatures surrounding him. The wolf moved onto it's side and curled around his back as Connor moved to stretch across the stone. The panther laid by his side, its head pushed into his waist as it too settled down. Neither creature closed its eyes as Connor's eyelids drooped again, slowly closing as he succumbed to the clutches of sleep. 

Hazy blurring images moved around him, and he felt the caress of hands through his hair, smoothing his locks outwards to the right of his head. Peering upwards, his throat grew tight. Kaniehtí:io, his mother, held his head in her lap, softly stroking his hair and his cheeks in a tender motion. He hadn't known her growing up, but her image was engraved into his mind, his father having a few stashed images of her, hidden away in cupboards and wardrobes. Her dark braids swayed slightly as she leant back a little, smiling at him with dark bright eyes.  
“Ratonhnhaké:ton. My sweet boy.” She touched his forehead with a cool fingertip, “Life scratcher was a sad name for you my son.” Kaniehtí:io smiles softly, almost reminiscent in a way as she folded her hands just above his head, the blurred figures moving around the back of her. One leapt at another, it's wrist held high as it slammed it into the other as they both made contact with the ground. Connor reached up to her face, his hand stopped briefly before making contact with her cheek gently, poking the flesh.  
“Are you real? Ista?” He felt a tear drip from his eye and Kaniehtí:io gently wiped it away with her cold finger.  
“No my son. You are dreaming.” She moved then, gently placing Connor's head on the soft ground.

Connor scrambled to follow her, standing to move after her. Kaniehtí:io walked a few steps, her native gown rippling with an imaginary breeze. He stood by her, and looked where she was, and gasped as the figures began to sharpen abruptly. Hooded figures and figures with red crosses stitched onto the sleeves of their jackets fought brutally. The hooded figure from earlier removed his wrist, a blade protruding from his wrist dripping with blood. The figure roared as a gun was fired, hitting it in the shoulder. The hooded person was sent spiralling to the ground but pushed themselves back up, ripping their garment off as their spine contorted and face elongated, the roaring of a big cat ripping from their throat. With that, other figures began to shift, ripping into still human enemies and other shifted creatures alike. Connor frowned at the scene, his eyes peering at his mother. Kaniehtí:io scowled at the scene, seemingly disturbed by the happenings.  
“What is happening Ista?” She did not reply. Haytham, cold gaze set on a wolf near their right, burst into the scene, drawing a gun from a hip holster before firing at the shifter. The bullet pierced the wolf's head, instantly killing the creature. Slowly, the body began to shift back into a human, and Connor watched as his father unloaded the cartridge into another six shifters, drawing a sword to plunge it into a severely injured bear's chest, ending it's life.

Kaniehtí:io shook her head before turning to her son.  
“This.” She turned his head towards the bloody battle, gripping his cheeks harshly, “This is what will happen Ratonhnhaké:ton. This is the future ahead of you all. You must stop this. You must find a way.” She peered into his eyes with a set look of concern, “Do not allow your father to become the monster people believe him to be. Save them. Save as many as you can Ratonhnhaké:ton. Promise me.” She gripped his face harder, her eyes cool and controlled. Connor frowned at her, the scene playing out around him churning his stomach. Closing his eyes, he took a hold of his mother's cold hands and tugged them away from his face, closing his large warm ones around them with a soft look and a firm nod.  
“I will try mother. Though I do not know how to do so, I can promise I will try.” Connor squeezed her cold hands reassuringly. Kaniehtí:io gave him a watery smile, something akin to pride swimming in her gaze. She hugged Ratonhnhaké:ton close and rubbed her hands down his back.  
“I know you will my little Ratonhnhaké:ton.” She whispered into his ear. Then she faded away, blackness taking over his gaze.

Connor awoke with a gasp. Startled, he sat up violently, sweat dripping down his forehead as he panted. As he gulped down air, the metal door squealed open, and light flooded his gaze, temporarily stunning him. Pushing his hands into the stone, Connor became acutely aware that the two beasts that had been with him last night, had disappeared. The room was dark once more and silent. Connor rubbed his eyes and stood up shakily as the monk from the previous day shuffled it, once again sweeping his arm out to indicate for Connor to move. He did so and stiffly moved out of the Sanctuary of Beasts to be met with his father and grandfather once more. His father smiled and moved towards him, his eyes gleaming.  
“What happened? Which animal son?” Connor blinked for a moment at Haytham's question before finally processing the words and replying.  
“A panther a-” Haytham rushed forwards in a show of strange joy, and hugged Connor close before carefully removing himself, dusting fur and dirt from his clothes. His grandfather pouted his stubble long and unkempt today.  
“Aw! I was sure he was gonna be a lion like me! Not a stinking panther!” Edward huffed to himself as Haytham smiled at his son, pride gleaming in his eyes. Connor felt a lump form in his throat as he bit back his words. He was reminded of his dream, but they dragged him away before he could say anything of it. He wondered what his father would have said had he actually finished his sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Too many words. I got very carried away with this. But I promise the main event will finally happen next chapter! I just need to recover before I attempt to write anything else. I am very imagination drained.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Comments, kudos and bookmarks are all greatly appreciated!
> 
> Spookworm~


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